


Cherry On Top

by CuddlyCorpse



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Angst, Chubby Reader, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Food Porn, Jealousy, Other, Possessiveness, Reader Is Not Chara, Reader Is Not Frisk, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), probably recipes, reader is female, soulmates(maybe), they will fight over you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2020-02-26 00:18:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 34,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18712648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuddlyCorpse/pseuds/CuddlyCorpse
Summary: You're a chef who's been screwed out of a job by your ex boss simply because you wouldn't consent to being his 'assistant.' You aren't stupid, you know what the heckie that means.So you find this want ad in the paper, Cook Needed for Lessons.Seems pretty legit, right?Note: Updates are random. I've slowed down due to family stuff, but I appreciate patience shown my way. Thanks a load.





	1. Fired Up

So, culinary school had been fun, and you were braced for the competitive field of a licensed chef, but you didn't think it would be THIS BAD. And that was an understatement! Your first job was at a massively popular, and very expensive Restaurant that was owned by one of the Richer families in Ebott. The boss was a man who was conventionally attractive, a husband, father of three, and a terribly lecherous man. The first month had gone by sort of decently. You worked the line with your colleagues and had a good time. Flying under the radar, that's what it was.

 

It was one day, however, that your boss spotted you. It was time to open up and you showed up to work with your hair down; you'd pin it up in the bathroom before hiding it all up underneath your toque. You would never brag, but you were an attractive young lady. You weren't terribly tall, and you had a bit of chunk to you that added to your already natural curve. You tried to bind for work, but it was terribly uncomfortable. Today was the day you decided that a normal bra was better than a binder, and this was the day that your boss really, really saw you.

 

He was there, speaking to the head chef when he saw you sweep by. You had to prep for the lunch rush, so you were in a hurry to go and get ready. He abandoned the chef and followed you, intercepting your journey into the bathroom. “Hello, dear, I was wondering if I could have a word with you in my office? It's about a promotion,” he purred to you in his heavily accented tone. You weren't sure where that accent originated from but you were betting somewhere Mediterranean.

 

You blinked in surprise at him and offered a light nod to him. The idea of a promotion after only a month was nice for you, you needed the money if only to pay your rent. He guided you into his office, and it was when you heard the door click locked that a red flag came flying out of this man's ass----- not literally, of course. You stared at him sternly as he rounded to his desk, sitting on it and gesturing for you to settle in one of the leather lined seats. Your nerves crawled down the back of your neck and settled in your shoulders. You were tense. It may have showed. Carefully and delicately, you pulled the chair back to sit in it, and he quirked his brows at your actions. You wanted to put a block of air between the two of you, though despite your best efforts, he managed to re-enter your atmosphere. Sweeping off the desk, he knelt before you and took your hand in his own. His wedding band glimmered in the dim light of his office, catching your eye. You didn't like this closeness, especially when he reached to tuck hair behind your ear.

 

“How would you like to be my personal assistant?”

 

“What would that entail?” you asked in a skeptical tone. He clearly wasn't prepared for you to ask him that, because he hesitated.

 

It was all too fast that you felt his hand sweep down your neck and to your chest, gradually slipping down to your thigh to give it a knowing squeeze. “A sizable pay raise....”

 

“Go fuck yourself,” you said it before you could stop it from slipping out. It flew past your teeth in such a venomous hiss that you almost didn't think you'd said it at all. But you did. He was enraged and offended, but he was the one a hair's breadth away from molesting you at this point!

“You're fired,” he uttered.

“Yeah, no, I told YOU to go fuck yourself, which means I'm outta here you fuckin' pervert,” okay, language, girl. You shot to your feet and pulled away from him as if he were made of some kind of disgusting filth that you didn't want on your whites. Filthy thing...

 

~~

 

That had been two months ago and you were far behind on your rent. He hadn't just fired you from your job- though you liked to tell yourself you quit- he made absolutely certain that no other restaurants in the STATE would hire you. You sat, now, in a cafe, having tried one last time to at least get a barista job, anything so you could pay your rent. He'd ensure you'd never work again. He ruined you, and something about that depressed you in a way you hadn't felt since your grandmother passed away.

 

You sat, quietly crying into your coffee while you desperately thumbed through IMGUR trying your hardest to chase your troubles and worries away with cute kitten and puppy pictures. It wasn't working.

 

You gazed back at the counter where the rabbit monster stood, sort of watching you with an odd sense of pity in her face (odd because she was sort of rough around the edges). She'd wanted to hire you and you could tell, but her boss said no, so she had to say no. But she at least gave you a free coffee to ease the sting of being denied your last chance. Eventually, unable to take the pitying stare, you took your coffee and left. Maybe you had one more chance. You haven't checked the want adds! Who knew, maybe some tiny mom and pop place would want your help?

 

After grabbing yourself a paper, you headed out to the park. Anything to avoid going home right now, not when it was likely that you would be doomed to suffer the bombardment of questions from your landlady. You sat on a bench and held your coffee precariously between your knees. You thought better of this position but by the time you wanted to move your coffee, you were already in the want adds. Nothing for restaurants, but there was a want ad that caught your eye.

 

LOOKING: COOK NEEDED TO TRAIN ALREADY GREAT CHEF

 

XXX-XXX-XXXX.

 

You stared at this for a few moments. It was short, sweet, and to the point, and you felt that you could probably do a cooking class for someone. You imagined whoever it was wasn't that great, otherwise they wouldn't be looking for a tutor in the first place. You called the number, and the moment that you heard the deep voice on the other end, you felt something jump in your chest.

 

“yeah?” it was scratchy, heavily laden with sleep and sounded as though it had probably seen it's fair share of smoke.

“Uh, hullo, my name is Y/N, and I'm calling about your ad in the paper?” you said softly, somewhat timidly. There was shuffling on the other end of the phone, like sheets were being pulled. There was a creaking noise, a door? The pause was so long you thought you'd been hung up on until....

“WHY, YES, HUMAN, I WAS HOPING THAT SOMEONE WOULD RESPOND TO THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS'S AD! I KEPT IT SHORT, I THOUGHT THAT YOU ILLITERATE HELLSPAWNS WOULD BE ABLE TO FIGURE IT OUT!”

 

You stared into space at this voice. It was putting on, like it wasn't meant to go this high, and, well, loud. You could hear it a ways away from your head, as if you had turned on speaker phone. “S...so I guess I'm the only one that's responded to the ad?”

“YES, AND AS SUCH YOU'RE SUPER DUPER HIRED.” super....duper.. Something was wrong here.

 

“O-ka-”

“WHEN CAN YOU BEGIN, I MUST LEARN THIS POSTHASTE FOR A PARTY I MUST ATTEND AT THE END OF THE MONTH!” you could hear a click on the other side of the phone, as if there was a hand on the receiver. Was that muffled giggling? Was this some kind of joke?!

 

“Today,” yup. You were calling this bluff. There was a cough on the other end of the line, as if someone were prepping to put on the act again.

“VERY WELL, IF THIS IS YOUR TELEPHONE NUMBER, HUMAN Y/N, I SHALL SEND YOU MY COORDINATES. BE HERE BEFORE FIVE OR SO HELP ME-” click.

 

You were left to listen to silence for longer than you would have liked before your phone buzzed with an address sent in all caps. You saved the number as 'Screamo' and slouched to drink the rest of your coffee. Well, you had to be there before five, it was two now, so you had enough time to go clean up and get in your whites before you drove over.

 

~~

 

The house was a lot bigger than you anticipated, and the architecture was decidedly--- well it made you think of those old fancy churches in Savannah or over in France or something. You sat in your car, staring stupidly up at the place as if trying to wrap your head around what was coming. You were wholly prepared to be shouted out the door, and soon you slid out of your tiny, cheap-o car. You meandered up the front lawn, careful of any odd patches of grass that looked suspicious, and moved to knock on the door.

 

The screech that was from inside was NOT the screech you had heard on the phone. “WHO THE HELL IS AT THE DOOR?!”

 

This voice was far different, it wasn't quite as deep as the one from the phone, but it was venomous, as though it would kill you to have words thrown at you. The door flung open with a force so hard you feared that it would be ripped straight off it's hinges.

 

The skeleton was immense, tall in a way you hadn't been expecting. Monsters were fine and normal, some were a little more tense and rough than others, but most were... sort of okay? This one was sharp. Every inch of him from his high cheekbones, marred in scars, to the spiked columns of his spine that trailed down under the sweater that draped from his frame. He looked at you with disgust, which was something you were most certainly not expecting. “WHAT DO YOU WANT, HUMAN?”

 

“I... spoke with someone at this residence named Papyrus? Said something about needing cooking...lessons,” the way his expression went from disgust to abject, terrifying anger made a pit drop into your stomach. You'd never been afraid of people before, much less monsters, but one didn't walk around with a head full of scars without having been a rough and tumble person. His long phalanges shot out and grabbed you by the arm, ripping you in the house and slamming the door.

 

“IS THIS SOME KIND OF JOKE?!” he barked into your face, angry spittle fogging your glasses.

“Did I stutter?” okay, now you were getting mad. Fearful, sure, but the sudden spit on your glasses? Yeah, that wasn't going to fly. You wrenched your arm out of his grasp and held up the want ad, followed by the text you had.

 

He took both of these items and, after whipping out a pair of half-moon glasses to read the small text, he made something of an exhausted noise in the back of his... throat? Did he have a throat? Was it bad that you were wondering?

 

“Screamo. Really?” he said in a lower tone before flipping your phone back to you. You struggled to catch it, and the moment that you managed to do so, you heard him screaming again. “SANS! GET YOUR MANGY ASS DOWN HERE, YOU HAVE EXPLAINING TO DO.”

 

There was a thud upstairs along with a bit of shuffling. The voice at the top of the stairs was familiar, cracking with sleep. “what is it, boss? tryna sleep up here!”

 

“GET DOWN HERE OR I WILL ACTIVATE YOUR COLLAR,” announced the slender skeleton. It didn't take much after that for the owner of the deeper voice to come stomping down the stairs like some petulant child. He had a grimace on his face, though the moment he laid eyes on you, he offered a sly smile to you. “oh, hullo, cookie,” his voice had a joking tone to it, but the stomp from the taller, slender set of bones made you both jolt.

 

“WHAT'S THE MEANING OF THIS?”

 


	2. Jokes are like Food; Not Everyone Gets It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You go through a world of hurt, a world of threats, and a world of humorless bickering.
> 
> Paps doesn't like jokes.
> 
> That's okay, explains why he's not fond of you, right? Thanks a ton, Sans.

You know the saying 'tension so thick you could cut it with a knife'? Boy, you were certainly wishing you had your knives out at present because you'd love nothing more than to cut the tall skeleton's hand off. He'd taken to gripping your shoulder as if he were trying to scruff you like a kitten. Unfortunately, you didn't have enough skin on the back of your neck to do that so he settled on holding you awkwardly by the muscle that connected your neck to your shoulders. It hurt, by the way, which was why you were unzipping your bag.

 

“WELL? WHAT'S THE MEANING OF THIS?”

 

The shorter of the two pinched the bridge of his nasal ridge a moment, giving a deep breath before he forced a smile and slammed his hands into the pockets of his sweats. He was dressed as one would expect of someone who just woke up- the collar was confusing and you wondered if it was a fetish thing... but otherwise he was wearing a tank top that dangled from him pitifully and a set of sweats that were bulked out by unseen muscle mass. How did skeletons do this if they-- y'know what? You knew the answer to this. Magic. Answer was always fucking magic with monsters. You were getting angrier as the moments passed, and before you can whip out your fillet knife, you found the squat skeleton gripping your wrist.

 

“now, now, cookie, don't give me a reason to have a good time,” he mused teasingly with those lazy red eyelights locking on your eyes. You weren't afraid of him, but the way his thumb pressed into your wrist forced your hand to slack. He went as far as to zip your bag back up for you.

 

“WAITING.”

“boss, she has a bag full of knives and i would assume you're hurting her based on the grimace on her face. here's an idea, wh-”

 

The crack of bone on bone startled you. You jolted enough that the larger skeleton lost his grip on you, leaving you to rub the gradually building bruise on your shoulder.

 

“HERE'S AN IDEA, WHY DON'T YOU STOP WASTING MY TIME AND TELL ME WHY YOU'RE IMPERSONATING ME? WHY DID YOU BRING THIS PATHETIC CREATURE HERE?”

 

It took Sans a few moments to get his head on right, it felt like it was spinning. Pap had a mean backhand and the ringing between where his ears would have been if he had skin was something he couldn't stand. You watched him shudder with fury for a moment, but he shoved it back down just as quickly. He straightened himself up, rubbing his jaw and staring up at the 'boss'. “you've been distracted lately. your usually brilliant cooking has started to come out more and more burnt. since i was, y'know, worried about you like a decent fucking brother would be, i thought i'd hire her to help reignite your passion.”

 

Aw, you thought, that was kind of sweet. Shady the way he went about it, but sweet. The larger set of bones whipped his head around to look at you, his empty sockets clearly looking you over before he reached to snatch you up again. His grip was on your wrists, hoisting you clear off your feet so that he didn't have to stoop to your level to look at you. His face was within inches of yours at this point as he judged you. “Tell Me, Human, Where Did You Learn?” Was this your fucking interview right now?

 

“Put me the fuck down, Lurch,” you spat in his face bluntly. He shook you. “I'll TELL YOU if you PUT. ME. DOWN!” He dropped you. A whole four foot drop and you were planted on your ass at his feet. He looked bored of you and you wanted to just shank him again, but you knew that you had better stick a pin in it. While he was physically hurting you, you weren't as afraid of him as you were the shorter of the two, who was giving you a look that screamed, 'hoe, don't do it.'

 

“Ahem,” you cleared your throat and hoisted yourself to your feet. Rubbing the bruises now showing up in your wrists. “I trained at Le Cordon Bleu in New York City, and then did a tour of Europe once I was out, courtesy of one of my teachers.” Your teacher had been a second father to you. He saw potential in you that he hadn't seen anywhere else, so of course you got to go to several of his friends' restaurants overseas.

 

“The Whole Of Europe?” he questioned then, his long fingers lacing together in front of himself as though he felt the need to be doing SOMETHING with his hands. Was this a nervous tick? Was he aware that he had been being a jackass? Was he gonna apologize?

 

If you guessed 'no' to all of those questions, you won the grand prize. “Well?”

 

Yeah...thanks.

 

“I've been to France, England, Italy, did some time in Germany and Switzerland too,” you could tell he wasn't necessarily interested in where you'd been but what you'd learned while there.

“Italy,” he uttered with an odd bite to his tone.

“Yes, loads of time in Rome. Gorgeous country.” You were trying, and shooting a glance to the shorter skeleton, you could tell he appreciated it.

 

“FINE, YOU'RE HIRED. SANS GO AND PREPARE HER BEDROOM.”

“W—wait what? Bedroom?”

“If You Are To Aid Me In Training, You Will Need To Be Present At All Hours In Case I Get A Stroke Of Genius.”

 

You hoped he had a stroke of somethin', alright. “But I have an apartment...”

 

“SANS, DID YOU NOT THINK TO PUT THAT SHE WOULD BE LIVING HERE IN YOUR AD, YOU IMBECILE?”

 

“honestly this was a joke that got a little out of hand, boss.”

“IT'S NOT FUNNY IF YOU HAVE TO EXPLAIN IT, SANS.”

“y...yeah.”

 

Before you could really protest, the taller of the two had stooped to take your hand- gentler this time- and lead you into the kitchen. “Will this Suffice?” he questioned, craning his neck slightly so as to see your face.

 

The kitchen was massive, the kitchen of your absolute dreams. There were two stoves, complete with convection ovens, there was a pasta drying rack, which you found to be interesting because a lot of cooks HATED making pasta. There was a massive island in the middle, though upon closer inspection you realized it was a huge chopping block. Was it a butcher's block too? In awe, you moved about the kitchen, even finding they had a fucking walk-in freezer. What the hell was this place? Had you died? Was this weird, Addams' Family looking house really heaven?

 

“Well?” you heard that sharp voice hit you from behind.

 

“Y..yes, yeah, it's great, but uh, I can't li-”

“DON'T. You Will Be Staying Here,” he said bluntly, coming upon you fairly quickly with that long stride. He leaned forward into your face, looking more at your glasses than your face. In a moment he snagged then from your face and leaned back so they were out of reach. He was realizing he'd spit on you earlier. As such, it was sort of shocking to find him cleaning the glasses for you. Right on the edge of his sleeve. “I'll Force That Mangy Brother Of Mine To Gather Your Things,” he said simply before offering them back. “You Will Stay.”

 

You had no choice.

 

“Alright, whatever you say, Dr. Lecter.”

 

He didn't get it. That was fine. At least you could joke with yourself.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You got the job and a new place to live! Fuck your rent, you're living with the crazies now.


	3. Butt of the Joke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You lay down some GroundRules™.
> 
> Pap's calmed down a bit, mostly cause he's gettin' his way.

So, turned out Dr. Lecter and his shorter, squat brother were actually dubbed THE GREAT AND TE-- it was Papyrus. Just Papyrus and Sans. You weren't going to dignify the screeching banshee of a student with a title that was clearly self imposed. Now that he had gotten his way, Papyrus- or Boss as Sans called him- was a lot more calm. Loud, sure, but calm. He had replaced your glasses back on your face and pressed the thumbs of his hands into the cushion of your cheeks. He pinched, and you winced, but he didn't seem to be bothered by it. “You're A Fluffy One,” he commented idly, going as far as to squeeze your arms a little more gently than he had before. You swatted his hands away and, for a moment he looked appalled.

 

“Firstly, don't. Just don't do any of this,” you said, gesturing to the whole of your face. “Secondly, I may be living here for you, but your BROTHER is paying me to TEACH YOU, so we're going to have to agree to a few things.” Why was his grip so fucking hard? You were going to be covered in bruises and you didn't even have fun getting them. Seriously.

 

“I Suppose That's Fair,” he said with a grunt, leaning back to cross his arms over his broad chest. He was slender, yes, but you wagered if he had skin, he'd look like... Well your knee jerk reaction was to think he'd resemble Dracula, but you felt your first assessment of 'lurch' suited, too. Granted, you'd been slamming him with shitty horror-themed nicknames, and you had every intention of doing that for your duration here. “State Your Terms, Huma--”

 

“ALRIGHT, alright, I don't need to be reminded of what I am all the fucking time SKELETON, so let's just get this straight here, right? You call me Y/N and I'll call you Papyr-”

“The Great And Te-”  
“Papyrus. Don't correct me. I'm not going to go through the whole shpiel every time I'm talking to you like I'm announcing your presence to the fucking vegetables, okay? Papyrus.”  
“Fine, Next?” He was getting huffy again and it showed as he was drumming one of those long digits against his upper arm. What bone was that, you wondered. Humerus? Was that the one? The arm equivalent of a femur? Fuck, you couldn't remember your own ass from a hole in the ground much less the names of all of the billions of bones a person had in their body. And more than that, he was a Skeleton MONSTER. Hell, he might have bones inside his bones for all you knew. “NEXT?” His harshness stirred you from your thoughts and you coughed nervously. Right, anatomy was to wonder about later.

 

 

“If I'm living here, I expect some sort of privacy. So no barging into my room when you have a STROKE OF GENIIUS. If I'm not here, don't go in my room, don't snoop through my shit, and I'll do the same. Deal?”

“Deal. Next.”

Stars above, he was a short person with this attitude. Fine.

 

“If I correct you in ANY.THING. you aren't to bite my head off because you disagree. Remember, I'm teaching you, and you're not going to get any better or get over this slump your brother thinks you're in without some guidance. I won't insult you, but I'm not going to hold punches to spare your feelings if you burn something.” That needed to be said right away, because this fully grown man had just backhanded another fully grown man for not answering him quickly enough. You weren't going to play that game. “If you ever lay hands on me like you did your brother when I got here, you'll lose your hands. Are we clear?”

 

He was smirking. Why was he smirking? You could even hear him chuckling at you as if you had said something so amazingly cute that he could barely contain his entertainment. “Of Course,” he said finally, resting his hip against the butcher block behind him. “I Only Strike Those That Deser-”

 

“He didn't deserve that,” you said quickly. “As far as I'm concerned, this whole set up was his attempt to surprise you with something nice. You were ungrateful and impatient. You need to apologize to him,” you were being demanding, sure, but you really, REALLY didn't want to be in the middle of that garbage again. You felt eyes on you, but they weren't Papyrus's. In fact, he was glancing behind you. Steadily, you turned to look back and saw Sans had gone to get dressed and, apparently, walked in on you defending him.

 

His face was screwed up as if he wasn't sure if he was insulted or thankful. He eventually scoffed and moved to the fridge to grab a bottle of mustard free from inside. “i can handle a few beatin's from him,” he said bluntly, turning to look you in the face. The tightening of his smile told you what you needed to know, he was humiliated that you, the hired help, found him so pathetic that you had to jump to his aid. You didn't even KNOW him, what kind of shitty thing was that?

 

Your lips sank between your teeth a moment, chewing them for a few clicks before you allowed them to smack free with a pop. “Fine,” you said simply, shrugging. “Keep your ass kicking out of the kitchen, I don't give a flying fuck, but if you butt into my cooking, we're going to have issues,” you said this and watched Sans take a pull of the mustard from it's container. You made a face, disgusted. Just watching him drink it straight made your mouth hurt and water with the memory of getting hazed in college. Blackened mustard and pickled peppercinis on a sourdough bun. Nope. It was making your ears hurt now.

 

“you're starin', cookie, you like what you see?”

“Mustard? Really? And the cheap-o yellow bottle shit?” okay, you were picking on him a bit, sure, but... after being shut down for defending him, that was to be expected.

“SEE? SHE AGREES WITH ME!” Papyrus said suddenly, slapping his hand on the block. “You Shouldn't Drink That At All!”  
“No, I mean, there's a lot of kinds of mustard, you just went with the safe bet,” you said with a wave of your hand. Your dropped your bag on the counter and ripped part of your whites open. The bones must have thought you were undressing, because they both went red. But no, much to their dismay and disappointment, you were pulling the neck away to look at your badly bruised shoulder. “Another thing, Papyrus, don't grab me like this, I bruise easy,” you said, though anyone would have bruised to this.

 

He rounded the block to you and pulled the neck of your clothes away from the blackened area. He seemed embarrassed, even if it was for a moment. Another scoff from Sans as he came to have a look at it. “yeah, bro, looks like you fucked her up real good,” he mused with a sharp smirk, that golden tooth glinting in the light of the hanging lamps.

“SHUT UP,” Papyrus hissed before he moved to curl his hand over your bruise. His hands were long enough that you could feel his middle and ring fingers pressing below your shoulder blades. He applied pressure, and an odd, warm, tingling sensation swept over you. You had to grip at his wrist or you were going to drop. Your knees felt weak, and a dizziness took you over. You must have been swaying, because another of those long hands moved to settle at your hip to steady you while Sans prepped for the off chance you did drop.

“What are you doing?” Of course you had to know. Monsters were bizarre to you sometimes, even if you'd met a few in school and liked them. Their abilities were always astonishing to you.

 

“he's healin' you, cookie. think of it as a bandaid on his mistake,” Sans teased in his deep cooing.  
“Go Fetch Her Things.”

“need an address,” the now sour smelling skeleton asserted. It agitated Papyrus, but all Sans could do was shrug at him.

 

You gave Sans your address despite your semi-drunken haze brought on by the healing. You dropped, but Papyrus caught you and curled you into him so that he could carry you to lay on the sofa in the other room. You heard a loud crack and found Sans to be missing, and all that was left was the odd burning of sulfur and... well, mustard. “What just happened?”

“In Regards To?” he questioned while tucking one of the throw pillows under your head. He took your toque and tucked it under his arm while he gazed down at you.

“The noise,” you answered tiredly. Oh, that was a blanket, was he tucking you in for a nap? That's...that's what this was.

“He Calls It A Shortcut,” Papyrus answered simply. “Rest, The Healing Worked, But It Takes Some Extra Energy On Your Part To Finish.”

 

 

You didn't hear what else he said, mostly because you were sinking into darkness as sleep took hold of you like a lover embracing you for the first time in a long, long while.

 

A good and deep sleep...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Paps thinks you're heckin' adorable with your sassy nonsense.
> 
> Sans is annoyed you think he's so pathetic (even though you kinda sorta super don't though?)
> 
> Y'know what they say about assumin' shit, Sans. Makes an ass outta u, not me.
> 
> Thanks for the support, guys, y'all are makin' me happy to be writing again!


	4. Shoe Box Gremlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some POVs for you.  
> You got Sans first, then you have Pap.

Sans POV;

 

Okay, so, tricking you had probably backfired on him royally, and he realized that the moment he saw you. It was only solidified in his mind when Papyrus decided to backhand him in front of you. Well, that was embarrassing. Enough that he had felt his magic pooling at his fingertips for a moment. He wanted to lash out at his brother, but he knew better. Not with a human around, it'd blow the roof off the damn house.

 

Now, however, he found himself standing in your apartment. He needed to get away after all that had just happened, and the ache in his cheek was only a reminder that you pitied him after what Papyrus had done. You were right, he didn't deserve that. But he didn't want your pity, either. He knew he was pathetic, he didn't need a human telling him he was, too. While he was here, he decided he was going to poke around your place. It was going to take him a hot minute to get your meager positions to the house, but, he had an idea. He'd just... pile it up in the center of the room and hope for the best.

 

The apartment smelled nice, despite being shit, he noticed. It was like you had cooked a big meal before showing up at the house, but he knew that was probably not the case. It was a residual smell that masked the natural musk and mildew of the dusty joint. He moved to open your fridge to poke around inside, and to his surprise, nothing. There weren't even leftovers in here. “oh, cookie, you were in a bad way, huh? guess you're as lucky as us. maybe the joke wasn't so bad after all,” he mumbled to himself. He shut the door to the fridge and peeked in your pantry. Rice. That was all you had to live on. How did you maintain being a chunky thing while only having Rice to eat?

 

Did you eat out a lot?

 

Probably not, you didn't seem the sort. You'd judged him on the 'cheap quality' of his mustard, after all. He had a sneaking suspicion you were going to ride him until he tried new things. Fine, he'd let you ride him- in more ways than one.

 

 

He laughed at his own mental processes while closing everything up. “okay, cookie, m'leavin' your cookin' shit here, we'll just buy you something new,” talking to himself, great. That sure as shit wasn't creepy or anything. At least you weren't here to hear.

 

He dipped into your bedroom, which was off to the side of the kitchen in this pathetic excuse for an apartment. Hell, it was more of a shoebox than anything else. He decided his best course of action was to pile your shit on your bed and shortcut the whole lot back to the room you were to have back at the house. He couldn't resist, however, going through your drawers to see what you had.

 

Top drawer, to no one's shock, was underwear. What was a surprise, however, was the amount of color he found in there. Women were bizarre creatures, he noted, especially human women. Why the need for a rainbow of panties, he'd never know... but that didn't stop him from nabbing one of your many pairs of red to tuck into his pocket. A souvenir, payment for moving your shit. He could go on a list of reasons why he took it, but the one that came to mind was-- may as well.

 

He pushed your chest of drawers towards your bed and using his magic, hoisted it up to drop it on the bed. Deciding he was lazy, he hopped up on the pile of furniture and used his magic to let clothes fly out of your closet to pile up next to him neatly. Any nick knacks you had, on the bed, any photos, anything that looked important? Bed. Everything was loaded up save for what pitiful furniture you didn't need before, with all of his energy, he got it all home. It took a load out of him, and almost made him feel sick, but his job wasn't done yet.

 

He hopped off the bed and looked around the bare room and it's dull grey walls. He figured you'd want to change that at some point, but that was on you, not him. He had to take a moment, wiping sweat off of his cranium while he caught his breath. Finally, he used his magic, again, to set your room up. If you didn't like how he arranged it, you could fix it your own damn self. He was doing YOU a favor.

 

If he didn't get some fuckin' high class mustard out of this he was going to hold a grudge.

 

 

Papyrus POV;

 

For a while, he watched you sleep, thinking over the course of the day with something of irritation in his bones. You, a filthy, pathetic human, in his house, and now he was caring for you like a sickly kitten? You had better be grateful he hadn't killed you where you stood when you started making your demands. The only thing that prevented him from doing so was the odd pooling of magic in his gut- or lack there of. It was oddly attractive to find that humans could be so assertive. Most were inferior creatures not worth a glance from him.

 

But you? You were a classically trained cook who had traveled. That, to him, was impressive, and moved you up the line from pathetic worm to Sort Of Tolerable Insect.

 

The thud upstairs told him that Sans was back, and so, deciding he was tired of simply watching you sleep- cute though you were- he would go and investigate your things as he was sure that his sibling had. He meandered upstairs and into the room that was set to be yours. Sans looked angry, no surprise to Papyrus. He was over exerting himself with his magic because he was too lazy to move things around manually. “You're Making More Of A Mess Than Anything,” he announced his presence in a stiff tone, and watched how Sans tightened up in a panicked fashion.

 

“yeah, well, i'm not here to be a maid,” the shorter skeleton shot back over his shoulder. “why'd you hit me in front of her, boss? if she's supposed to be workin' for us, shouldn't there be some kind of mutual fear of, y'know, both of us?”

“No One In Their Right Mind Would Fear You,” Papyrus answered, and of course, Sans's grin became stiff.

“you're right, boss,” he relented before turning back to his work. Papyrus saw a glint of red poking out of his brother's pocket, and curious, he snatched it, much to his sibling's chagrin. “give those back!”

“Stealing?”

“accepting payment,” he responded, holding his palm up and waiting. It took Papyrus a few moments before he decided that, no, these were his now.

“I Thought We Were Paying Her?” he countered, watching his brother freeze up like a deer in headlights upon realizing that his panty theft had just been.... stolen from him.

“damn it, pap, c'mon.”

“Get Your Own.”  
  


Sans had to take a deep breath to calm himself from shouting. You were sleeping downstairs and if you found they were bickering over a pair of your delicates, you might not be very forgiving. “fine,” he said, marching over to your chest of drawers to rip out another pair, these were--- stars in heaven, they were black. He'd reached blindly and grabbed the laciest pair he'd seen.

 

Papyrus's sockets lit up at the sight, and while he wanted them, he'd already stolen one pair from Sans. A second wouldn't be grand.

 

“What Was The State Of Her Living Situation?” he decided to question while his sibling fingered the lace with as much curiosity as Papyrus currently had.

“shoe box. if we were living there, we'd probably have preferred a toaster bath bomb to the place.”

“What A Lovely Image,” Papyrus hissed and watched Sans roll his eyes before he left the room entirely.

“panty raid between us?”

“What's A Few Secrets Between Brothers?”

“good....good..”

 

Sans left at that point, which meant Papyrus could go and poke through your things a bit himself. He found a few photos of you and your teachers at school. You didn't seem to have many friends, and those that you did were clearly only acquaintances. You had no family photos, which lead him to believe that your teachers might have been the closest thing you had to family. Sad. Pitiful, really. You were just a lost, injured kitten, weren't you?

 

He pitied you in a way his brother could only dream of. But, no matter. You were better off with them, he reasoned. Here, you'd be able to cook to your heart's content, and your allowance was enough to weigh down your pockets. He wasn't worried about you leaving, not in the slightest. Not after he'd seen the way your face changed from fury to awe in the kitchen.

 

He was fully aware you'd wanted to stab him to death, sometimes he imagined Sans did too, but your entire aura changed to absolute delight upon seeing the kitchen. You were hooked. You were theirs now. It's too bad you didn't fully realize it yet.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'd better not leave, you're gonna miss...the panty raid.


	5. The List

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These boys have nothing in the house to cook.
> 
> Time for a shopping trip.

When you woke, you weren't where you had originally been left. The sofa had been comfortable enough for you to nap on, but this sleep ended up being far deeper than just a nap. Was it the first actually decent sleep you'd had in a while? Hell yeah it was. Your neighbors were loud and the walls of your apartment were paper thin. If you hadn't been kept awake by the screeching and fighting, you would have been kept awake by their abundant need for make-up sex. It happened so often that you had just accepted your fate of never-asleep and went about your life like it wasn't a problem.

 

Unfortunately for you, one could not sustain oneself on five minutes of sleep at a time.

Fortunately you were adopted by two skeletons like you were a cardboard box, 'free to a good home' kitten.

 

The bed was more comfortable than you remembered, and looking around you realized why. You were in a new bedroom, yes, but your old bed had been broken down to the point where your old, lumpy and busted mattress had been tossed. Probably for the best, that thing had been clinging to life before now. You stretched out under your new sheets and sat up. You were still in your whites from the day before, and you realized then that they hadn't even taken your shoes off. Huh... well, you had to credit them for some things, they weren't creeps.

 

(And what you didn't know wouldn't hurt them, right?)

 

You groaned a bit louder than you intended as your stretch went from good to great real quick. You heard a knock on your door that near spooked you out of your skin, and before you could open your mouth to say you were decent, the door creaked open. Papyrus looked somewhat concerned at first, but the expression faded almost as quickly as you'd seen it. Had you been that loud with that stretch? Whoops. “You Were Screaming,” he announced this as if you were unaware. You sat up and slid your feet to the floor, fighting the urge to stretch again. A few joints popped when you rolled your shoulders, taking comfort in the fact that your week-long neck strain had finally worked itself out now that you'd had a proper sleep.

 

“Sorry, I uh... it was a really good stretch,” you expressed while you picked yourself up out of the bed. You did your best to stifle a yawn while you looked around the new set up that was your room. It seemed like a good portion of your stuff had been moved, and seeing as you only kept your important stuff in your bedroom, you were glad to see it around. How did they get that old shelf here? You thought about rearranging the place, but if they'd worked this hard on making it look homey for you, you weren't going to change it beyond a few photo placements. You realized Papyrus was staring at you and when you did it startled you. “Something wrong?” you questioned simply while poking around in your drawers. Did he seem tense? Maybe.

 

“I Was Unsure As To Whether Or Not My Brother Got All Of Your Things,” he began, stepping inside to look at one of the photos of your favorite chef from school. Hugging you on your graduation, the man was older and was clearly proud of you. “I Took The Liberty Of Hiring A Family Friend To Bring The Rest Of Your Things,” he said simply while setting the photo down. “Most Of It Is In Storage, Your Room Isn't Quite Large Enough,” he lifted a hand and gestured to the door, “However, Your Kitchen Supplies Are Downstairs.”

“Oh, thank you,” you were a bit bewildered by this, but you couldn't help but to feel grateful for the effort. It didn't shock you at all that Sans had chimped out about getting all of your stuff, he looked kind of lazy, and seeing as he was asleep at five o'clock when you showed up yesterday? Yeah... you weren't shocked. You both fell into a strangely comfortable silence before he bowed his head and excused himself from your room.

 

“Shower And Change, We're Going To The Grocer,” and with that the door closed. You weren't accustomed to being told what to do in this fashion, but he was right, the whites were for the kitchen, and having slept in them, they needed to be cleaned, starched and pressed. Lovely. It took you no time to strip and hop into the shower, but it did take you a hot minute to figure the shower out. Why? You'd never been in one of these fancy ones before. There were sprayers that came from all sides in the walls, and if you didn't hit the right button on the console, your ass was burned. Still, after a few minutes of fiddling around with it, you got it and leaned your sore back against the powerful stream.

 

Your mind gradually drifted to what had happened in, hell, the last month. Things were-- well you guessed the were looking up. You were in a situation where you stood to gain more money than you spent, especially considering the fact you had room and board plus whatever you were paid on top of that. With a house this big you were surprised more people didn't live hear, but the way these two treated each other, you weren't too shocked they needed their space. You realized there was only soap, no shampoo, and while you shouldn't have been too shocked, you sort of were? You thought they would have gotten crap out of your bathroom, too, but apparently not. That meant you'd have to get some necessities on top of groceries today. You somewhat hoped that was okay, you kind of needed it.

 

When you were squeakie clean, you took a few moments longer to lean in such a way that the harder spray was directed at the middle of your back. You had always had issues with it, and the pressure felt good on your sore nerves. With a heavy sigh escaping you, you let your tension wash away. It was as if the stress of the last month and a half were washing away and down the drain. You were finally able to relax... How long this was going to last, you weren't sure.

 

Turning the shower off was as much of a battle as it was trying to turn it on. You managed after about fifteen minutes of fiddling around with the controls. You burned your ass, froze it, and burned it all over again, but finally the shower was off and you were shaking as you got out to grab your towel. You made a note to ask one of them for this shower's manual so that you could figure out how to properly use it without ending up like a drowned rat by the end of it all. You draped your towel over your head and dried off enough to fake it to make it. You pinned it up and when you were satisfied that it wasn't in the way, you set about the arduous task of dressing yourself. You dipped your hand into your drawers and blinked a bit while you pulled out your favorite red pair. Your black ones were missing. Did you leave them in the wash back at your apartment? Huh... You weren't sure, but you'd figure that out later. Slipping the elastic up your hips, you dug about to grab a bra that- unfortunately- didn't match. You were in a rush at this point, throwing on a pair of loose slacks and a t-shirt that said 'Romaine Calm; Lettuce Carrot On.' It was a dumb pun, but you thought it was cute.

 

Since you were just going to the grocery store, you didn't feel the need to fancy up, and so when you stepped out of your room you were prepped to do a full inventory of their fridge, walk-in and pantry. You just... had to find your way to the kitchen, first. Before you headed down the hall, you turned to close up your room. Privacy was important, even if you weren't there.

 

It took you a while of trial and error in these dark halls, but eventually you made it to the kitchen. Papyrus was settled at a table off to one side, drinking coffee and looking over the paper with a sort of dull air to him. You wouldn't be shocked if he were focusing on headlines, he seemed like the kind of guy that was action oriented, and bad news was news, right? “look who made it,” you jolted and turned when you heard Sans speaking behind you. He passed you by, looking far more tired than the last you'd seen him. “welcome back to the world of the living.”

“You look like I feel,” you announced to him, hearing Papyrus snort in vain to avoid choking on his coffee.

“gee, thanks, cookie. here i got all gussied up to go shoppin' with ya, and ya gonna insult me?” Sans frowned as best his rictus face would allow while he dug in the fridge for a near-empty bottle of Mustard. That you promptly took from him and trashed. “wh-”

 

“No more garbage,” you said simply, poking his chest. “Get hungry, I'm changing your diet.”

“oh, alright, i see how it is, ma, i'll be sure to stop drinkin'.” Yeah, no, he was going through the trash to get his bottle back. “th'hell you think you are, i'm payin' you to teach my brother to cook not dictate to me wh-”

“If I'm living here, and that means,” you leaned into his atmosphere and watched him light up like a Christmas tree, “you deal with my menu.” Your hand closed around his to force him to drop the bottle back in the trash. “So, you can either rise and change with the times, or get swept away by Tsunami Y/N, we crystal?”

“clear.” He was so embarrassed and you took an odd, sick pleasure in flustering the bonehead who thought he could fluster you. Fuck him, you were the boss now.

 

Papyrus cleared his --- wait did they have throats? You tossed your gaze towards him, able to see him staring you both down in a manner that suggested he wasn't certain how to feel about what he was watching. They both knew you were a spit fire based on yesterday's nonsense, but you were seizing the reigns as if you'd lived here all of your life.

 

Flabbergasted, maybe. “Somethin' to say?” you questioned, tipping your head to one side while you tossed the fridge open to see what was inside. It was pitiful. You'd never seen so many ready-made items in your life. You had to wonder if this was what Papyrus was cooking with, or, if his cooking was so terrible Sans just had to throw whatever together simply to survive.

 

You really had been brought into a bachelor pad, hadn't you?

 

With a deep sigh, you yanked the trash bin over and started checking dead dates before you set to chucking bad food out. There was a noise of discomfort from Papyrus, and a low chuckle from Sans. You went as far as to do a deep cleanse of this fridge before you set about looking through the freezer stuff. If it had been in there for longer than six months, it was dumped. “You guys waste too much food,” you commented.

 

“YOU'RE THE ONE THROWING IT OUT, HUMAN, NOT US!!” Papyrus finally balked, though the look you gave him made him look like he'd just swallowed hot metal.

“You let it ruin,” you said, pointing at him.

“That's Not—”

“I'm looking at the dates,” you said, holding up a container of suspiciously green meat. “Ground Beef isn't supposed to be this color, Papyrus. This could kill someone. It might not kill you because, I'm gonna guess your gut's incorporeal so...”

“it's magic,” Sans said in a manner that said 'just leave it at that' because he threw a shrug in on top of it. “so what're you gonna do?”

 

“Well, first we're dumping this trash,” you said while tying it up and pushing the can towards him, “or, rather, you're dumping this. I've got to make a list. Do you only like mustard or?”

“you're considering me in this list?”

“Would I have asked you if I wasn't?” the bite in your tone showed some annoyance, and, well, you didn't like being questioned. If you weren't going to get something for him, you wouldn't have asked what he liked. Despite your irritation, he seemed shocked you were even thinking of him at all. Was he not accustomed to it? How badly did Pap treat him? You had to wonder, but you weren't going to openly ask.

“boss?” Sans threw a look to Papyrus, and the two of you tossed a look towards the slender skeleton. He looked equally as perplexed.

“Answer Her, You Don't Need My Permission For That.” Wow, took him longer than you thought it would to come to that conclusion.

“w...well, cookie, i like a lot of things, but i guess my favorite's mustard?”

“Willing to try new things?” You questioned while rummaging around to find a notebook. You were glad when you found one in the junk drawer, along with a pen along the top. You were already scribbling down the basics onto your list, separating them in sections that were clearly separated in the store. Fresh, Pantry, Frozen, things like that. In the margins you made a note to get YOUR necessities.

“yeah, reckon so,” he uttered, trying to peek over your shoulder to see what you were writing. Maybe you were being childish when you hunkered down over it like a fourth grader hiding your test answers from a known cheater.

“It's a surprise,” you mumbled, and with a scoff, he moved to take the trash out, mumbling something about dumb, bossy broads.

 

In the end, Papyrus came to aid you in your list making, and by the end of it you realized how much was there. Three pages of stuff. Did they have the money for this?

“Is There Anything You Needed?” he questioned, clicking his digits against the counter.

“Already wrote it down.”

“Presumptuous,” he countered with a smirk.

“You didn't have shampoo in my bathroom,” you needed more than that but like hell you were going to discuss THAT with a monster who wouldn't have that problem.

“I Imagine We Didn't have A Lot Of Things You Need, Humans Need Quite A Bit,” he commented with a shrug. “Get Whatever You Want.” His way of saying they could afford it.

 

“So.... are y'all coming with me or is this a 'you're the cook, you get it'?”

“You're My Teacher, I'm Going Regardless,” he said bluntly. Meaning he was going to use this as a learning experience, which... you kind of respected.

“And your brother?”

“Lazy Bones May Sleep In The Car But He's Attending, I Think,” he made a disgusted expression at that while he moved to take his keys. You grabbed the list and moved to follow him, but paused at the door. You dropped your eyes to your bare feet and then shoved the list at him.

“Gimme a sec,” you said before you hauled ass back to your room to throw on a pair of sandals. It was hot out and you'd be damned if you were going to waste the energy on tying shoes today. When you came back, you found Sans and Papyrus waiting on you, leaning on the hood of a relatively rich looking Black Cadillac Coupe DeVille. You suddenly felt a little under dressed, this car looked like it just rolled off the set of some mob movie or something. “You like cars?” you questioned while you pulled the strap on the back of your heel.

“Very Much So,” Papyrus murmured.

“he's stupid for 'em.”

“EXCUSE ME?”

“where the lie at, though?” Sans questioned before he piled in. “let's go!” He was dodging a bullet, and he knew it, considering how tightly wound Papyrus's hands had suddenly become. It was comical for everyone involved when you climbed over the seat and fell into the back. Sans COULD have been nice and let his seat up for you to get in, but, coulda, shoulda, didn't. “y'alright, cookie?” he said between a laugh while Papyrus slid into the driver's side. It was clear this car had been, uh, adjusted for their sizes, because you suddenly felt very small in this thing. It looked a lot...smaller outside? Must have been the whole magic thing.

“My neck isn't broken, so we're good.”

“Good To Know,” the car roared to life and the garage door opened up to allow him to pull out. You'd never ridden in one of these cars, but the way it purred sent vibration through your entire being.

“Say, we got a big list, is the trunk big enough?”

“oh, cookie, we could throw a few bodies back there and still have room,” Sans said with a toothy grin.

“Uh... Alright then.”

 

Well, this was going to be an interesting trip. You still felt under dressed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE! Pap put your undies back. Aren't you proud of him? 
> 
> HOW BOUT THIS CAR THO?
> 
> Sorry I got a thing for vintages. Feel free to insert whatever car you like best, but, heckie, can't beat the classics, baby.
> 
> These boys need to learn, tho, you take in a cat off the street, the cat owns you, not the other way around. RIP.


	6. Shopping for Noobs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The much anticipated shopping trip.

You hadn't realized how far out of town the house was until you got into a car with these two. You realized all too suddenly that the back seat had no seatbelts, and Papyrus drove like a man escaping the apocalypse; which is to say you were sent sliding all across that back seat. Sans had taken to watching you slip and slide like a dog enduring it's first car ride. You could hear him laughing at your struggle, but in all fairness, you were more concerned about the car flipping with you all inside it than you were of sitting still in the seat. “want me to come back there and keep you still?” he offered with a broad grin, golden tooth glinting in the afternoon sun as it pierced through the windows.

 

“I'd rather enjoy the ride by myself. Who taught you how to drive, Papyrus? Did you just learn by operating a roller coaster?” you griped, gripping onto the handle over head. You heard him crowing with laughter as he peered into the rear view to look at you.

“Why, Are You Having Fun?” he teased, his smirk only sharpening with a sick delight as you scowled at him. You realized all too suddenly that he was doing this on purpose. He could drive perfectly well, he was just fucking with you. They both were. Had they talked about this when you went to get your shoes?

 

Okay, shitheads, two could play at this game, just wait for supper. When he got into town, he did start driving more like a sane person, but his turns were still a bit on the sharp side. A few times you'd knocked your head, and you knew you were going to be sore tomorrow. This was a workout, and you could already feel your muscles burning from trying to force yourself upright.

 

By the time you made it to the grocery store, you were so tightly wound you could feel each muscle in your stomach, back and shoulders. You felt the hard pat against your upper back as Sans guided you inside with a toothy grin still plastering his face. “yanno, you're pretty cute when you're spooked, cookie, almost like a kitten,” he commented, though that smile turned into shock when you started pinching his face. You were startled to find that the bone around his face was malleable, like modeling chocolate. The both of you stared at each other as you pinched. You tightened your grip and he slapped your hand away. “th'fuck?!” he balked, and you tried to get at his face again, but Papyrus grabbed you by the wrist to pull you inside and away from his sibling's face. Rescued, Sans let out a sigh of relief.

 

“Why's his face squishy?”

“Magic,” was the only answer you got. Right. Fuckin' Magic, you should have expected that.

“So at what point does 'magic' become a cop out?”

“When He Uses It To Clean Up After Himself,” Papyrus said bluntly. He watched your shoulders sag, knowing full and well that's not what you meant, but if he cared, he didn't show it. “Now,” he shoved a cart at you and gestured for you to lead the way. You leaned against the cart, though felt a slight movement and caught a whiff of ozone. You lifted your gaze from your list and saw Sans was draped in the shopping cart, his legs dangling over the side, head resting against the kiddie seat. “onward,” he said, gesturing lazily. You rested your list atop his head, much to his disapproval, but if he was going to be in the cart, you were going to make him useful for something. You glanced back and saw that Papyrus had taken to pushing his own cart, mostly because Sans was being nonsense and taking up most of the room in yours. Why was it that Pap only sometimes corrected the shorter skeleton?

 

Their relationship, you realized, was bizarre. Papyrus was something of a control freak, otherwise, Sans wouldn't look to him for permission so very often. Hell, Sans even looked to him for answers, you noticed that in the kitchen earlier. But sometimes, just sometimes, Papyrus didn't have all the answers, again, something you saw in the kitchen. Now, however, they both seemed to be relaxing in your company, which made you feel a little better about being around.

 

Usually you wouldn't have been so aggressive, but after the shit with your boss, you weren't going to let anyone walk all over you. They were paying you for a service, and if you had to live with them- which Papyrus insisted upon- you were going to treat this like a room mate situation. They needed to know where not to push, and you had to figure out the same with them, too. You imagined you'd learn it, you just hoped that Papyrus didn't backhand you like he had Sans. The larger skeleton's hands looked sharp, and you knew well that you'd be sliced to ribbons if he hit you hard enough.

 

Gut feeling and all of that.

 

You were stirred out of your thoughts when you felt Sans poking your cheeks. “why the face?” he uttered, peeking from under your list.

“Have you been staring?”

“long enough ta see your face melt into somethin' depressin'. got a story there, or what?” he scratched at his chest lazily and gave his legs a swing as you started pushing the cart.

“That's dinner talk, not shopping talk.”

“ya want me to take you out, cookie?”

You stopped, thinking about it. Your boss had screwed up all the chances you had at working at any restaurant in the city, hell, he owned most of them. You felt heat behind your eyes and, bitterly shook away that memory. “Yeah, in your dreams. The restaurants around here aren't up to my standard, cherrybomb, maybe in some other lifetime.”

 

His face went red at the nickname, eyes boring into you from under your list. If he got to call you cookie, you got to call him whatever the hell you wanted. That just happened to be the only thing that came to mind. “seriously?” he mumbled to you, and you nodded.

“Would you have preferred I call you Red Hot?” which made his face go darker, “Oh, what about Big Red, like the chewing gum?”

 

Papyrus seemed to be amused by your relentlessness in teasing, because when Sans looked at him to do something, say something, ANYTHING, he just shook his head at his sibling and craned to look at your list. The only rescue Sans got was Papyrus changing the subject, “You're Very Concise With Your List,” he uttered, leaning over your shoulder so as to better see your sectioned off list. You pushed your cart holding the squat skeleton and moved to the pantry portion of the store. You tended to wait to get cold stuff before you left, because the store wasn't the same temperature all over. You heard Papyrus griping about that, but you ignored him, opting to use the cart as a scooter so as to speed through the relatively empty aisles of the place.

 

You figured your first lesson would come when you arrived at condiments and saw Sans sit up slightly. His legs were a little askew along the sides of the cart as he tried to reach for- you guessed it- the cheap shit. You swat his hand down like a plane being sniped out of the air by Godzilla's mighty fist. You gave him a look before you reached to throw a few things in the cart, ignoring his grunt when some collided with where his gut would have been if he had them. He picked up one of the bottles and turned it carefully in his hand. “brown mustard?” he mumbled, making a face.

“It's spicy,” you commented, noting how he was frowning at that.

“can't I just have what I like?”

“How do you know what you like until you try new stuff to compare?” you countered. He was getting mad, but seeing you weren't going to let up, he huffed and looked away. “Ok, Compromise,” you said, settling the cheap bottle on his chest. “You try all of mine, and I'll get you a few of these. Deal?”

 

You watched him think about it and eventually nod to you. You hadn't expected it to be that easy, but you imagined you'd buttered him up with the rapid fire nicknames you'd slapped him with on the way here. Papyrus didn't want to be in this aisle, and it was clear he was impatient. When you pushed out of the way, he seemed happy to follow, despite his expression being somewhat neutral. “Why Are You Placating Him?”

“He signs my checks,” you reasoned, which got a smug scoff from Sans in your cart. You heard him reading off the jars and bottles you'd thrown on him, noting the Bavarian Mustard with a rather curious air. He flipped it over to see what was in it, clearly occupied by all of the eats you'd thrown at him.

 

Or … drinks in his case, you realized.

 

You always felt at peace while grocery shopping, and things were going relatively decently while you taught them a thing or two about purchasing good meat. They both seemed rather interested in this, especially when you explained the difference between silver skin and marbling, because it seemed neither of them knew anything about trimming. Hell, Pap insisted on pre-ground stuff, and you informed him that if you all ground your own meat, you got to control fat to meat ratio. That in and of itself was a lesson that you summed up into 'flavoring.'

 

You explained you'd have preferred to go to a butcher for this stuff, because then you knew where the meat was coming from. You were somewhat impressed when you found Papyrus taking the chuck out of your hands and guiding you away from this area entirely. He was mumbling to himself about finding a butcher locally, and figured he had a decent idea on that.

“so we eatin' vegan til then?” Sans sounded disappointed at that.

“Nah, I snuck some meat, we'll do burgers tonight and I'll go tomorrow to a butcher I know,” you explained. “Not a fan of vegetables?”

“didn't really get a lot in the Underground, so i ain't sure how to answer that,” at least he was honest.

“Well, we'll figure out what you like together.”

 

At some point you had to slip away from the two of them to get your necessities. You didn't want to have to explain it to them, but when you came back to find them bickering about something in the pasta aisle, they didn't question it.

 

“i'm sick of lasagna, you burn it anyway!”

“How DARE You?” Papyrus hissed. You caught him before he could strike at Sans in public, and it stunned the both of them silent.

“Ok, first of all, we're in public, and if you hit him, we're getting the greasiest, grossest burger on the way home and I will make you eat it,” Papyrus looked disgusted at your threat. “Secondly, I'll teach you how to make home made sauce for lasagna tomorrow, and we'll just do the whole thing then. We gotta do the butcher thing, remember?”

“yeah, boss, can't cook with subpar ingredients, y'heard the lady earlier,” Sans added.

Huffing angrily, he yanked himself away from you both and thought about it with fingers tapping his cheekbones. “So Be It.”

 

You ended up getting the ingredients for tomato sauce, and explained that they should probably look into an herb garden, because fresh was always better. Papyrus considered it and eventually agreed to it. That would come later, though, it was late in the season and you imagined that it would be hard to get anything to sprout now- unless you went and got seedlings as opposed to seeds themselves.

 

Once the drama was over, the rest of the trip was placid, though they ended up bickering over ice cream and what you'd like more, rocky road or mint chocolate. You ignored both of them, grabbing your actual favorite, which was a combination of coffee icecream with oreo and cookie dough. If you were going to sin, you were going the whole way. “I got mine, you both need to get your favorites.”

 

So they did. You had them take the two, full carts to the front while you grabbed a 'secret ingredient', which you'd be using later. Sriracha was the good shit, and you were going to use it in your burgers tonight. Payback would be sweet. And they would be red hot by the end of it...

 

They'd just...have no idea until it was too late.

 

There was a little push back at the cashier, which was startling to you. Monsters were common, so what was the deal? Oh, that's right, they had been aggressive when they first came out. And... well Papyrus was still pretty aggressive. Sans was trying to cool him down, but it didn't seem to be working. “I DEMAND--”

“What's going on?” your words cut through the air as you cut through the line. The cashier had his back turned to Papyrus, arms crossed.

“We don't service monsters,” the man said bluntly.

“Uh, If you'd turn around?” he glanced and saw you, perplexed as to why you were with them. “You can't turn me away, can you? All of this is mine, they're just helping me get it back to my new place,” Papyrus was about to call you a liar, but realized what you were doing.

 

The man bit his lips a bit and considered his options. “I mean, if you want me to talk to your boss, that's fine too, but, I would hate to have to out this place for bigotry,” you leaned on the cashier's station and looked more uncomfortable. This place wasn't bigoted, it was just him. “Why don't you call your b-”

“No it's fine,” he said begrudgingly and started to scan the items. You made a gesture behind your back at the two skeletons to make them give you money, and when a wad of cash was placed into your palm, you casually set to counting it. The man behind the counter gave you a fearful look as you did this as slowly as you possibly could. He thought you were going to kill him, fact was, you probably just saved his life.

 

After you paid, you tucked the money away to give back later on. Loading up your carts again was harder than it had been before, because it seemed doubly full with the addition of bags, even if you'd opted to get the cloth kind to use for next time.

“so... what's the cloth for?”

“The environment,” you explained, watching the look of bewilderment on Sans's face.

“y'all care about that shit?”

“Well, some people do,” you countered while following behind Papyrus. He opened up the trunk and, sure enough, it was big enough to fit a body inside. Damn. You all aided in filling it in and, before you knew it, you were in the car again. Sans had opted to get in the back this time so you could at least have a seatbelt. The slip and slide roller coaster was much easier to deal with when you weren't, y'know, sliding all over the place. Was this a reward for dealing with the cashier?

 

Oh shit, you almost felt guilty for the ultra hot burgers you were going to make later. Whoops. Maybe you could play it off? Or... make it optional?

 

Maybe?

 

Who were you kidding? After what you just saw you couldn't go through with it and you damn well knew it. Fucking A.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit, now you can't prank them.
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> ho hum


	7. Impromptu Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y'all ready to learn some basics of Culinary school?
> 
> Cool, I'm ready to teach.

You had mulled your options in the car on the ride back to the house. You'd decided after careful consideration that you were, in fact, going to turn up the heat on both of these boneheads. After all, they did need to see that you weren't some innocent cook, and that you had to have fire in the kitchen in order to survive. You'd lived behind the line and dealt with humans scarier than Papyrus, so if he got mad, well, he'd just have to get mad.

 

After the shit in the store with the cashier, they couldn't afford to have you just disappear, either. That'd be bad for their image, and Monsters already had it pretty bad.

 

So you weren't scared, you just had a little bit of guilt rising up in your chest as you pulled on your apron and washed your hands vigorously in the sink. The groceries had been put up for well about an hour now, and you had been showing your student a few things while you debated how you wanted to make the burgers. It seemed that Sans wanted to watch this go down in flames, because he had settled himself in the kitchen nook to watch you both. It was almost as if he didn't trust you with knives around his brother.

 

Smart man.

 

Of course, you weren't going to be an asshole and play five finger fillet with Papyrus. He didn't have skin to cut anyway, and you doubted you could do much damage to the stringy skeleton anyway. “Alright, so,” you began your lesson once your hands were clean, actually gesturing for Papyrus to do the same. He hesitated, arguing that his hands were perfectly clean, but when he saw your expression flatten, he relented. “Rule one, slim, you come in this kitchen, before you touch ANYTHING, you wash your hands, that goes for you, too, Cherry,” you shot at Sans, watching those sturdy hands of his lift in mock surrender.

 

“Why?” came from Papyrus, then. “Magic te-”

“No copouts,” you butt in, much to the larger skeleton's frustration. “You're being taught by a human, this room is MY domain, you play by my rules, or we don't play. Got it?”

“Fine, Fine,” he groused while drying his hands. “There, I've Done It. Now What?”

 

You were satisfied once you looked over his joints, which he didn't really understand. For a human, you had to clean up under your nails, but skeletons had exposed joints that could get dirty. When you were finished making absolutely certain that he was squeaky, you brought out your knives. The roll was spread out on the counter, and he seemed interested.

 

“Didn't Know You Were Into Torture,” he commented idly, noting how well kept your knives were. You scoffed at that and leveled him with an amused glare.

“We'll get you one at some point,” you expressed while you lifted up your run of the mill chef's knife. You looked down it like you were checking the sights on a gun and noted that it was slightly off. “Do you know anything about honing a knife?” you questioned while you withdrew your honing steel. He seemed somewhat unsure, but when you showed him, he nodded.

“You're Sharpening It,” he said, which amused you to no end.

“No, you can't sharpen a knife like this, that's what a whetstone is for,” you gestured with the steel to a block in your roll before you went back to honing. “Sometimes, when a knife is used a lot, it'll bend slightly over time. This makes your cuts less... efficient, I guess would be the best descriptor there. Anyway, honing it makes your cuts better.” You ran the blade along the steel easily, occasionally pausing to check it again. “The Honing Steel makes your knife straighten out again. So if your knife isn't cutting well, it might not be dull, it may not be entirely straight.”

 

“That's Fascinating,” he commented, clearly eyeing your steel in a fashion that would suggest he was wondering if he could use that with ANY knife, not just cooking ones. “Where Do You Purchase A Whetstone?” he asked then, leaning on the counter to watch you work.

 

You were silent for a few more moments, turning the knife up to check it's angle once more. You set the steel away and then turned your eyes up at him. “I got mine at a hardware store, but, I think you can get them at most places with kitchen related stuff,” shrugging, you checked your fillet knife and ran it along the steel, too. “Now, I'm doing this before we start, because you always want your tools to be ready, and you want your mis en place,” you expressed. The sudden bit of French had them both looking at you bizarrely. “What?”

 

“say that again,” Sans said from his spot at the nook.

“Mis en place? It just means, 'everything in it's place'. Typical cooking term,” you were confused, but you wondered; did they not know any other languages aside from English? Which, for them, would be common, you supposed. “C'mon, that's not a very impressive term, either, I mean, if you want something that sounds prettier,” you thought back to culinary school and all of the terms your teachers had drilled into your head. “Mmm, Bouquet Garni comes to mind.” You took a moment to note the odd shiver that ran across Papyrus. Did... they like this?

“What Does That Mean?” he questioned with a voice that was overcompensating by sounding too firm. It didn't sound like a question, it sounded like a demand.

“It's a bunch of fresh herbs tied in cheesecloth and usually used to flavor things like sauces, soups, stews, things like that,” you shrugged and set your honing steel away and leaned on the counter. “You guys want me to start speaking French or somethin'? You kinda react to it.”

“NO I DON'T,” his voice cut the air and made you jolt a little.

“Alright, alright, fine, jeez, cool your teeth, biggun,” you uttered while moving to get the meat from the fridge.

“I Put That Back,” he commented with a frown.

“Yeah, well, I magicked it back into the cart,” you said, wiggling your fingers in his direction. “Slight of hand. You saw him roll his eyelights at you and heard Sans laughing somewhere behind you. “Do you got a grinder?”

“like, for meat? nah, we don't, cookie,” Sans uttered while he leaned back in his chair. Why was he doing this? Simply put, he was watching you move, and he wasn't hiding it, either. If he tried, he'd fail anyway, you weren't unobservant.

“Well, then, I guess I'm showing you how to do this without a grinder,” you announced while you poked around for a cutting board. They didn't seem to have one of those, either, and your frustration was becoming more and more potent. “Ok, so, did you both not do any cutting whatsoever?”

“use the counter?” Sans offered.

“That's filthy.”  
“SEE?! She Agrees With Me,” Papyrus flapped a hand in your direction and then rested it on his hip while eyeing his sibling.

“Wait, you've used the coun--- Okay, we're ordering Pizza, we're cooking tomorrow,” Executive decision time. You had to clean this kitchen, it might have looked pristine, but after hearing that? You realized that these boys didn't know their head from their heel in the kitchen.

“What?” Papyrus eyed you when you came to push him out, soon followed by Sans, who purposefully leaned back into your pushing as if to make it more difficult. You shot your foot forward and gave him a flat tire in the back of his shoe, and that made him yelp, and thus, forced him to walk.

“I have to clean the kitchen, and then I have to go dig through my boxes to see if I can find my cutting board. Nothing is coming out of this kitchen until it's... disinfected.”

“why do you need to go that extra mile?” Sans questioned, hands stuffed into his pockets.

“Because, while YOU two boneheads can't get sick from eating MEAT TAINTED food, I can, this place is probably crawling with e coli or something,” you hissed at him. He rolled his eyelights at you and shrugged.

“fine, i'll--”

“No, You Won't. You're Going To Help Her Clean Since You Probably Contaminated The ENTIRE HOUSE,” Papyrus shoved him back into the kitchen, only to watch him collide with you. You both went careening into the floor, and you became aware that the bones weren't as light as you'd imagine them being. No, Sans weighed what you'd expect a full bodied person to weigh. He had to be nearing three hundred pounds, and all of that came down hard on your back. On the Floor.

 

Air left you and for a moment you thought you blacked out. Hell, time seemed to fast forward for a moment as the heavy set rolled you over to try and shake you back awake. Bad idea, sure, but you came out of it gasping. “What the ACTUAL FUCK?!” you screeched. He flinched and tightened his grip on you, namely because you looked like you wanted to go burn Papyrus at the stake.

“cookie, cookie, he wasn't lookin', calm down,” yeah, no, you weren't calming down. But Sans tried. Eventually, he pushed you into the floor and straddled your hips to pin you completely. He was going to hold you there until you ran out of steam, which was faster than he would have liked. Damn.

 

“Get off.” It came out in a sigh. You had tired yourself out, which was good, but also not great because Sans didn't want to clean the kitchen on his own.

“you calm?”

“If you don't get off of me, I'm going to kick you,” you warned, and that was enough for him to lift up. He offered his hands to you to help you up out of the floor. You got a bout of Vertigo due to the quickness of the lift, but, you managed. Papyrus was long gone, but you could hear him on the phone in the other room. “Is he always like that? Throwing you into rooms, hitting you?”

“you get used to i-”

“No, you don't,” you interrupted him before you went to see what you had to clean with. “You can keep telling yourself that, but if he ever pulls that with me, there's not enough xanax in the world that'll stop me from stomping a mudhole in his ass and walking it dry.”

“i won't let you hurt my brother, cookie,” he said sternly.

“I'm speaking figuratively, I'm not an idiot,” you shot at him from under the sink, drawing out disinfectants so that you could wipe this kitchen down.

“how do you figuratively stomp a mudhole in to someone?”

“I control the food here,” you commented, which made him tighten up.

“what do you mean by that?”

“Ever eat a prank meal, Sans?” you asked, turning to look at him. “Bite into a cookie and find it doesn't taste nearly as good as it looks because it's literally just a cracker covered in flour to look like powdered sugar?”

“oh, you're the devil.”

“You let me in your house, you're stuck with me.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sucks to be Sans.  
> #FeelsBadMan
> 
> How would you guys like some art for this fic? I'm gettin' around to it, after all.
> 
> As Per Usual; sorry if this seems rushed, my folks decided it was time to have a full length convo while I was typing QuQ;;


	8. Crushing Cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a Sans POV Chapter /o/

Sitting in the kitchen with you earlier in the night, listening to your threats- no- your promises of future pranks made him wonder why you were the way you were. Granted, one could say the same about him. There was very little about him that was clean, but at least his issues were more straight forward than yours. At least, from his perspective. He was the way he was because that was how things were in the underground. Kill or Be Killed, and boy howdy, Sans had a dead-list the length of a football field at this point. If it wasn't a human bending under his power, it was territorial disputes with other monsters. These days, however, things were calmer, mostly anyway. Sure, he and his brother had the habit of being on the wrong side of the Surface's legal system, but they had enough money to make bail a million times and still be swimming in funds.

 

Papyrus was right, getting stock during their gold exchange made a very nice net to land in when they were falling.

 

Here you were living with two dangerous skeletons, and you didn't even realize it. Sure, you'd drawn your line in the sand and dared them to cross it, and while Papyrus was pretending to be respectful, Sans knew. The Boss was livid. Hell, after the kitchen incident, once you'd gone to bed for the night, there had been a long drawn out discussion. In hindsight, this discussion was more like a venting session for Papyrus, because he angrily yelled at Sans while the shorter of the two thumbed quietly on his cellphone. He wasn't...entirely listening, and when Papyrus realized it, he took Sans's phone and flung it across the room where it shattered into a million pieces on impact. Sans watched the bit of tech explode as it fell to the ground in a fiery heap. Ok so there was no fire, but there may as well have been.

 

“ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME, YOU FOAMING IDIOT?!” came the taller skeleton's screeching, directly into Sans's face. “DO YOU KNOW HOW HUMILIATING IT IS TO BE TOLD, BY A CHEF, THAT YOU'RE DOING THINGS WRONG?!”

“bro, it's not that big of a deal. she's here to help you learn, so you really shouldn't be humiliated. i mean she didn't spend the majority of the day coming up with new cutesy nicknames for you, so i can't see why you're the one so pissed,” Sans was doing his best to remain calm in all of this, but as his sibling paced in front of him, the more he thought about those cutesy nicknames, the angrier he got.

 

This was about to turn into less of a rant from Papyrus, and more of them howling in agreement into the night.

“IT'S THE PRINCIPLE OF IT, SANS! YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE SURPRISED ME WITH THIS, I COULD HAVE HAD THIS PLACE CLEAN ENOUGH TO SUCK VODKA SHOTS OFF THE COUNTERTOPS!”

“that does sound good right about now, honestly,” yeah, he could stand to get absolutely fucked up right about now, and you had bought him enough mustard to last a month, even the fancy shit.

The noise that came out of Papyrus was a mix of a yell and a growl. He knocked a lamp over in his frustration at Sans's attempt at derailing the subject. Sans would have flinched if that weren't the fifth lamp in the last two weeks. He sighed heavily at how his brother's tantrum turned the room into a warzone. It was a matter of time before he turned his fury on him. And not the furniture.

“HOW DARE SHE ACT SO HIGH AND MIGHTY? HOW COULD SHE BE SO FOOLISH AS TO THINK THAT I, THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS, CAN BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT?!”

“well, what are you gonna do? the kitchen's clean, we've eaten, she's in bed. unless you're gonna go up there and beat the shit out of her, there's not a lot you can do,” Sans offered. Papyrus whipped his head around to look at Sans with the sort of fury that hell itself could only hope to achieve. The old judge was actually disturbed, however briefly. He didn't show it, though the beading sweat at his brow might have.

 

“I Can't Do That,” wow, inside voice. He wondered what caused that. Papyrus was in the middle of a blackout rage and he was using his inside voice.

“uh, why? nothin's ever stopped you from beating my head in. what's the difference here?” He leaned forward to look at his brother as he stood upright and set about rolling up his sleeves. It was something he did before he started cleaning, and after wrecking the sitting room, there was no doubt he was going to be up for a while to tend to this.

“She Makes Me Feel Funny,” the young captain hissed lowly while he stooped to begin picking up glass. “How Pathetic,” he groused, “We've Only But Just Met Her And Already She Makes Me Feel At Odds...”

“are you telling me you have a crush on cookie, bro?” Sans was trying to hide his amusement, and was failing. Or at least he was until a hunk of the dead lamp was hurled at his face. He slid down in his seat so that it just went barely soaring past his head.

“SHUT UP, YOU IMBECILE AND HELP ME CLEAN THIS UP.”

 

Begrudgingly, Sans got up and began to pick up a bit with his sibling. He knew better than to lean on his magic here, because that would only get more objects thrown at him along with being called lazy. He was already bruised- as bruised as a skeleton could get- from being drug into the room to be yelled at in the first place. He was becoming more and more aware of how badly he needed a smoke at this point, but for the time being, he focused on the task at hand. “so about that crush.”

“Sans, If She Wakes And Hears You, I Will End You,” the younger skeleton warned while he moved to the kitchen to grab the trash bin to pile up the mess in. “I Don't Know What It Is.”

“she meets all of your ultra high standards, clearly,” came in a rather sarcastic tone, and as such, he was kicked to the ground with a heeled boot.

“SHUT UP.”

Sans rolled over, rubbing his tailbone with a frustrated expression. “fuck, pap, seriously? look, what i mean is, she's cute, she knows how to cook- way better than you considering it was her schooling, i might add- not to mention she's a fuckin' fury. hell, i'd be a liar if i said she didn't make me tight up when she's got those knives out,” he shivered, remembering with great detail the finesse with which you honed your blades, and how nonchalant you were about it. You didn't know it but you were hot. You were so hot that you were burning them both to a smoldering crisp under your sun.

“It's Been Two Days, Sans,” Papyrus reminded as if he knew EXACTLY what was going through the shorter skeleton's head.

“yeah, i know....” he fanned himself with a large shard of glass, his eyelights wandering lazily across the room they had partially cleaned.

 

Sans had had his fair share of one night stands, but that was a love 'em and leave 'em deal. You were living with them, and rushing shit would be bizarre and awkward. Hell, they could kick you out when they were done with you, but something ate at him, a weird guilt that he wasn't accustomed to at just the very thought of that. He took a steely breath. “y'know, m'not exactly good at the whole goin' steady thing. you've done it before.”

“Didn't Go Anywhere, And I Didn't Feel Nervous Like I Do Now.”

“yeah cause you didn't have anything to lose,” Sans reasoned. He wasn't surprised when Papyrus dismissed him for the night. He stared for a bit, wanting to let Papyrus know he knew, but.... the last thing he wanted was for the boss to blow up and suddenly unleash WWIII on his ass. He shortcut to his room and flopped back onto the bed. He could hear movement overhead, you were moving around in your room. He was tempted to go look, but, instead he opted to shoot you a text. The movement stopped.

 

Cookie- Yup? Something wrong?

[xx]- you throwin' a party up there, cookie?

Cookie- No, there was a bug, I was letting it out the window.

[xx]- didn't squish it?

Cookie- Bad luck to squish spiders.

 

Oh, boy, did he know that to be true.

 

Cookie- Hey, uhm, what was with all the yelling?

 

Sans hesitated, resting his head on the pillow and his heels up on the foot of his bed. How did he answer this?

 

[xx]- boss got a little upset because he wanted to impress you, i think.

Cookie- Aw... Well, you guys are monsters, I don't think you have much to worry about with germs and stuff. Do you guys even get sick?

[xx]- kinda? like, it's not like human sick, it's magic corruption or... hh, i'd have to give you a biology lesson. you up for one tonight, sweetcakes?

Cookie- Nice try, Cherry, not fallin' for anything but sleep tonight. See you in the AM. Be up early, we're goin' meat hunting.

[xx]- was worth a shot. night, cookie.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some secrets afoot here. What does Sans know?  
> Why's Pap unable to punish you?
> 
> I made a new tumblr for my fics! Updoot your follows because this one's specifically fic-related garbenge.  
> https://ahouseinthewoods.tumblr.com


	9. The Fan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus POV and a lil backstory for my lovely readers <3

When the Barrier came down three years ago, everyone was free, and while a lot of their perceptions had changed, many monsters had habits that were a little hard to break. Violent streaks, in fighting, that sort of thing, they were a little difficult to let go. After all, being raised in a Kill or Be Killed environment, it was expected that monsters would be a little twitchy. Papyrus had decided then and there that he was going to pursue the fine art of cooking, and since no one would allow him to school due to initial bigotry, he did what he could to get by. That meant a lot of books- most of them school grade books. While he put in a good effort, an impressive one, by anyone's standards, he still had a little bit that held him back.

 

Papyrus was by no means a stupid individual, he could pick things up and learn them faster than most monsters could, there was a reason he was in the position that he was in the underground. Not only were his puzzles horrendously difficult – nigh impossible to solve- but his training went by so quickly that in astounded his teacher, Undyne. She made him her second in command, and as such, climbing the ranks, it was no shock that when she moved on to be on the King's Guard, that she bequeathed him with the title of Captain of the Royal Guard. Sure, she'd graduated from captain to something more personal, but she still held him in high enough regard to pass him the reigns. And he worked it perfectly.

 

No, where Papyrus was lacking was in that he had poor vision. So poor, in fact, that it was not uncommon to find him squinting. He refused to acknowledge this, ever. He would never accept that he had a weakness that needed to be tended to, and so, sometimes, he misread the tiny script in some of those collegiate cook books of his. His poor vision, however, didn't stop him from hoarding these books, especially from one Chef Lombardo, who taught at the Le Cordon Bleu in New York.

 

When Monsters were allowed to actually go places, and weren't discriminated against with some things such as plane rides, he actually went to New York to see one of this human's live classes. Chef Lombardo...

 

And that's where he saw you for the first time. You were still one of his students, but you were also helping him with his demonstration for the crowd of hungry, curious onlookers. Back then, your hair was cut shorter, but he knew it was you. Lombardo treated you like you were one of his own spawn, based on how he bragged to the crowd about you, and how smart you were. He half wondered, at the time, if you were related.

 

But, humans all looked the same to Papyrus. So, that would likely be why he questioned it.

 

Too embarrassed to actually approach the man he'd call his idol, he payed someone to go and get his book signed for him. It was nice that humans were so easily pushed to do things when money was involved.

 

~~

 

Years later, he had still been following Chef Lombardo's work, and even came across him giving you rave reviews on his social media. That was how he found your social media. He watched over your shoulder- figuratively speaking- as you crossed the globe and learned under foreign teachers. A lot of your stuff was food related, you took pictures of EVERYTHING, even if you didn't make status updates, or whatever. Sometimes you posted recipes, and sometimes he tried them. He liked your cooking a lot, and sometimes he pretended he was getting you to cook for him.

 

Imagine his surprise when you ended up in your home town of Ebott City, working for one of the culinary mogels of the tri-state area. The place had become overrun with tourism since the barrier dropped, so it was a perfect place to set up shop for leeches like him.

 

Papyrus had even gone to the restaurant you worked at simply to try and see if he could figure your food from the rest. He could always tell what station you were on, because your work was a lot better than the other linechefs. He never got to lay eyes on you when you worked, be he knew that you had something special. You had the kind of passion that came from suffering. And he like that. He liked that a lot.

 

One day, a few months ago, he had gone back there, and everything tasted like chalk. There was no flavor, and no passion in any of what he put in his mouth. He wasn't happy. He found out sometime later you'd been fired, but for what he didn't know. So, maybe he did rant and rave at Sans about it. Maybe he was outraged that someone would have the audacity to fire you, a classically trained chef who not only apprenticed under one of Italy's finest, but under France's, Germany's and whoever else. He was so angry he couldn't even remember! Your resume was astounding, and the fact that he couldn't figure out what happened bothered him.

 

So, he took to social media. You'd gone silent for a while, but eventually you were back. You'd explained you'd been let go for telling the boss to fuck himself. Papyrus figured you wouldn't naturally do something like that, so something was amiss. Whatever it was, you weren't talking about it, but you were talking about getting a new job and listed some prospects. He stayed tuned while each of the names on the list were crossed out with an explanation that, frankly, sounded like fantasy. You'd made up reasons why you didn't get the job, but Papyrus was gradually starting to know what it was.

 

He had been wholly unaware of Sans's antics. He didn't know about the want ad, or how it even managed to go uncalled. What he didn't know was that about a hundred people called in response to the ad, but Sans knew your name from his rantings. You were the one, you had the golden ticket, Charlie, and here's your factory.

 

When he saw you, he felt sort of... It was as if the gods had unanimously decided to strike him at once, and left his head reeling. If he'd known you were at the door that evening, he wouldn't have been so harsh. He wouldn't have grabbed you and hauled you around to keep up a good show. He wouldn't have done all of those things, and still, he felt guilty. Very guilty. He'd never admit it. He'd never bring it up, and he would never apologize. The man had a reputation, and he was going to hold it because it was the last thing he truly had.

 

But now, you were there. And since he knew about your struggle, about your desperation thanks to Instagram and Twitter, he had decided that you needed to stay here. Where you wouldn't need to pay rent, and he'd be able to learn from the master.

 

He held you in such high regard that it was hard for him. He was at odds with himself, especially with how fiery you were. That was unexpected. You were so sweet looking, and now you'd come into their home and staked a claim on the kitchen. You were queen here, and he was very, very happy to quietly, subtly serve you. You'd never know, of course, he'd never let himself be known as a subservient worm like Sans, but he was...

 

A knight.

 

Yes, that was a better one. A knight for the culinary queen in her stainless steel castle.

 

Papyrus knew, even during the teasing, the prodding that they'd put you through. The goading you'd put them through, the nicknames you subjected to Sans... He knew eventually he'd be able to call you his.

 

But, he had concerns, mostly due to the fact that his brother was apparently getting attached to the bizarre dominant streak you had. Jealous? No, there was nothing to be jealous of. Sans was a cretin, a useless sack of trash. The only thing he really had going for him was he was funny. Papyrus knew he could be funny if you wanted him to.

 

You would want him to... right?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awww, the truth come out! Papy's known you for a heckin' good time. Secret admirer alert!
> 
> Well, since now you know Papy loves you, now's the part where I tell you I love you too <3 <3 <3
> 
> Also also, as promised, drew the Reader today;  
> https://ahouseinthewoods.tumblr.com/post/184902513839/reader-from-cherry-on-top-one-of-my-ao3-fics


	10. Morning Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you make breakfast for your roomies.

You woke far earlier than your housemates. It was not due to an alarm, nor did you exactly go to bed at a time you would consider early, quite the contrary, actually. You and Sleep were not on equal terms, in fact, it was seldom you got a good night's rest for a full night. At this point it was four in the morning and you could already hear a subtle chirping of the birds waking with you. For a moment, you peered out your window onto the drearily black back yard. You considered asking them to put a light out there, given that, while you could see a treeline in the distance, the suffocating presence of darkened viridescent foliage in the distance made the place seem foreboding Here you were hoping to look out at something like a lit patio or something, and you probably would have noticed that had you pulled back your curtains before now. These would have to change, they were heavy and black and clearly meant to keep out the sun.

 

You were realizing more and more that these guys, while completely bone, could have easily passed for vampires with how dark this house was. Sure, it wasn't Dracula's castle, but it would likely be a nice little bed and breakfast ol' Vlad would keep himself in. You hesitated in your thoughts, snorting a little to yourself when you recalled the fact that you'd given Sans a list of nicknames, and only a couple to Papyrus. Lurch and Lugosi had been your go to, but Vlad fit him so, so well.

 

You shook your head and dropped the curtain before tiptoeing to the bathroom. You knew your room was directly over Sans's, and you hoped he slept as soundly as he looked like he did. You had no faith in that, but it didn't stop you from being careful. You took a shower, once again scalding your ass because you'd forgotten to ask for a manual on the thing. You'd ask them today, for sure, assuming things didn't go tits up when you went to the Butcher's later. Once you were satisfied with your cleanliness, you leaned away from the water and started pushing buttons until the shower cut off. Standing outside the shower had made it easier to shield yourself from the scalding that you knew was coming if you weren't careful.

 

Once you were fully dressed and had your hair pinned out of your face, you were ready to begin your day. When you checked the window again, you could see the vague outline of the sun over the distant trees, and the yard was lighting up a bit better. You spotted a greenhouse and thought... maybe it wasn't too late in the season to start an herb garden. Deciding you'd explore that later, you ventured downstairs and into the kitchen. You could hear stirring from Papyrus's wing of the house, which made you wonder how long he'd been awake. After hesitation at the bottom of the stares, you moved into the kitchen and set about pulling out eggs and the day-old bread you'd snuck home in your groceries.

 

You didn't exactly have anything extravagant to make, having no meat in the house, so you opted for something easy. French Toast. You casually cracked the eggs into a bowl and started whipping them like mad. You took a moment to season them with cinnamon, sugar and nutmeg before you work on dredging your bread. Moments later, they were being cooked up in a nice, large pan you were lucky to have found in your rummaging. There was a thud somewhere in the house and it made you wonder if someone fell, but the fact that it sounded metallic made you think twice. Something fell, not someone. You didn't let it stir you as you gradually worked on setting the table for breakfast, in between checking the food, of course.

 

The crisp staccato of heels on wood came to your ears as the towering behemoth that was Papyrus came looming into the room. He seemed startled to see you there, and you would have pointed out the shocked expression he wore, were it not to have disappeared the moment you met eyes with his sockets. He cleared his non-existent throat, trying to chase away the sleep in his voice before he spoke.

“Good Morning, Human,” he said simply, moving over to the coffee pot to start about the task of brewing himself something. Note to self; get a French Press. They might enjoy it. You watched him from the corner of your eye as you flipped the toast in the pan and set plates down next to the stove. He was silent for a moment, though it was clear he was having issues with coming up with words to say next. So, you took a moment, looking him over. The sleeveless top he was in didn't suit him, nor did the sweats he'd graced your presence in. By the look of the beads of moisture on his neck and sharp spine you wondered what he was doing.

 

He was struggling for words, so, you took the reigns from him. Snatched them right from his hand while he floundered about in his skull.

 

“So, what was that big boom a minute ago?” You watched the way he jolted slightly as if he wasn't expecting you to speak to him at all. He wasn't fully awake, you imagined, because he wasn't acting himself.

 

“I Did Not Know You Were Down Here,” he said bluntly, scratching his jaw while peering at you from the side. He put the coffee on and moved to have a seat, just in time to have a stack of French Toast settled in front of him with maple syrup. He wasn't accustomed to having someone else make him breakfast and it showed. You moved back to make your own plate, but all the while, his gaze was on you. “I Might Have Dropped My Weights.”

“You work out?” he had no muscles though? How did that work? You must have been making a face because he snorted snobbishly. There he was, the boss was stirring.

 

“Of Course I Do. One Has To Keep Their Magic At Peak Performance,” he said with some tone of pride. “So, I Work Out Every Morning.”

 

“Ok, no offense, but we don't exactly have monster studies at Culinary school, though I figure we probably should, but uh... How does that work?”

“Because I'm Bone, Right?” he seemed amused while he sipped at his coffee. “Think Of Magic As An Extension Of Ourselves. Our Magic Is Our Muscle, So,” a pause, a gesture, “That Is What I Work Out.”

“Follow up question, how do you do that with weights?”

“Would You Like That I Demonstrated?” he questioned with a sly expression on his face that made you somewhat nervous.

 

You thought about it. You were curious as hell, and you knew that you had a lot to learn living with two skeletons, but you were confident in your ability to learn. Learning had always come easy to you, and your chefs had always called you quick on the uptake. Still..

“Maybe later, I don't want to burn the house down because we got distracted with a demonstration,” you said this honestly, and he gave you a curt nod of understanding.

“Fair Enough.”

 

An odd silence settled between you, filled only with the sound of the sizzling pan and your occasional poking around to see if the food was still sticking. It usually released itself when it was done, after all, but you had to watch it to prevent it from scalding. You flipped your food and realized you didn't even consider Sans here. Maybe it's because you knew he was likely not to wake up at all.

 

“What's the schedule like around here?”

“This Is My Usual Coffee Hour, And Sans,” he paused, looking to the clock, “Is A Wild Card.” Meaning, he wasn't sure exactly, either, great. You decided that this plate was for Sans and you'd just bring it to him. After all, you intended to have him come along with you both to the Butcher so that you didn't accidentally slip and choke Papyrus out because he decided to talk down to you again.

 

Though you figured a shouting match was probably the better option here.

 

You were so lost in your thoughts, you didn't see him staring you down. Papyrus watched how you held yourself when you were cooking, far more confident than otherwise. You tended to be a bit cagey, like an unsure cat when you weren't at the stove. It made him wonder what made you quite so guarded. He himself was never that way. He was confident in himself no matter where he went or what he did. Mostly.

 

“Why Are You Curious?” His question caught you off guard and you almost dropped the toast you were plating.

“About your schedule?”

“Magic,” he corrected with a long digit clicking the edge of his black mug.

 

“W...Well, like I said, humans aren't given a guide on Monsters, and I imagine it's the same for you,” you said while moving to put syrup on the toast on the plate in your hand. “And since I'm living with you guys, it's only fair that I know what I have to look forward to.” You were trying to be civil, though you thought your answers were a tad obvious. You set the plate down and moved to grab a mug of coffee, but dared not put anything into it. You had a suspicion that Sans probably didn't drink it, and if he did, he didn't like anything in it.

 

He was trying to be civil, too, you realized, and it was something you appreciated.

 

“You're Right, Human,” he said bluntly, leaning back to tuck a bite of food into his mouth. He was mulling it over, and you gave him the universal 'one sec' gesture before you headed to take food to Sans. You made it to his door and knocked firmly. Nothing. Another knock. Nada.

 

So you laid down on the gas and knocked until you knew he'd get so angry he'd have to open the door. It worked, too, because while he had tried to roll over and go back to sleep at the first few knocks, he could be heard thrashing about, thudding and rushing the door in short order. The door flung open and you offered him a tired smile, a cup of coffee and the plate. “Morning, Sunshine.”

 

He stared at you, the hollows under his sockets somewhat rosy from his attempts at going back to sleep and failing. “breakfast in bed, cookie? comin' on a bit strong, aren't you?” there it was. He was going to tease you and flirt, but you knew it was a show based on how he reacted when you turned the tables on him. You had fun sweeping the rug out from under him, but it was early. Too early to be doing this.

 

“See, now, that would require you actually be in bed, Sans, and here you are at the door. Shame, huh?”

“you're a-door-able if you think that i don't see what you're doin' here. tryna sweep me off my feet, huh?”

 

“Sorry, Big Red, just breakfast, hopefully it's up to your standards and not detoastable.”

“oof, cookie, that one hurt, but i'll pass you for bein' cute.” He took the plate and moved back into his room. Your curiosity got the better of you and you peered inside and found yourself unsurprised with the fact that it looked like an utter sty.

“You're happy as a pig in mud in this room, huh?” you commented, which made him chuckle into his mug of coffee.

“oh, you know it, sweetcheeks. th'boss has been tryna get me to clean this place for a long time, wonder how long it'll be before he lights in here and does it himself.”

“If you do it first, I'll make you something nice,” you bribed, and he hesitated.

“like what?”

“Mm, well, I could show you how to make your own mustard and you can get creative with it. Think you can handle it?”

 

He was silent, staring you down in awe for a few moments while he bare handed the toast into his mouth. He would shower when he was done, sure, but the sight of syrup running down his arm was kind of comical.

“maybe,” was his final answer while he munched.

“And here I thought you mighta mustard up the courage to do something about it before now,” you teased and he snorted.

“puns are my thing, dollface.”

“Throw me a bone, Sans, I'm trying to be nice and find some common ground here,” you reasoned with a pout before you pulled away from the door.

“fine, i'll clean my room, mom.”

“That'll do, pig,” you teased while heading back to the stairs. “We're leaving at nine, be ready,” you were going to dictate this to Papyrus too, you just hoped he took it as well as Sans did.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: The Butcher Trip.
> 
> New reader? I've got loads of fic-related garbo on my dumblr. Drop by, shoot me a message. I love talking to you guys <3
> 
> https://ahouseinthewoods.tumblr.com


	11. Student Teacher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You learn a little about Magic before your adventure to the butcher's!
> 
> Warning: Mild violence

You hadn't expected to have to wait for the skeletons to get ready to go, nor did you expect how long that would take. Apparently, Papyrus insisted that since Sans woke so early, he'd have to do some training. The shorter of the two gave you a look that suggested you'd done this to him, and the fact was, you sorta had? You didn't much care, however. Sans was lazy, and it would do him some good to get a morning routine in. You knew this would last all of today and tomorrow it would be gone until the next time you baited him out with food.

 

For now, though, Papyrus decided it was a good means to show you what he meant by working out, and so, while you ate your breakfast on the back lanai, you watched the amount of weight the two used their bizarre gravity magic on. Papyrus, it seemed, could easily lift one or two of the cars in the garage, he'd been doing this so long, that his ability to lift several tons, and put several tons of pressure on something was near unparalleled. You had a sense that his lazy bones brother was holding back. Something about the way Sans was suggested that he was a faker for his brother's benefit. While he tried to make it seem like he was exerting himself, the fact that he wasn't sweating- one of his tells- told you that he was faking physical weakness so as to not outshine Papyrus. That in and of itself was cute, and you could tell despite their abrasive behavior towards one another, they cared in their own way.

 

So what if Papyrus gave Sans a frequent love tap? You didn't like that, still, but you hoped that would be eased away in time with your help.

 

After the warm up, the two sparred, which you were less interested in, but they still wanted you to watch. With a long-suffering sigh, you relented, but not after checking the time. Six o'clock. You had told Sans you were going at nine, and as of yet, Papyrus didn't know. The moment that you'd come down with the shorter brother, 'Boss' had lit in on Sans and the training just sorta...started. While you weren't too keen on watching them fight, you did desire to learn a thing or two about how magic worked.

 

“We, As Skeletons Use Blue Magic,” oh, he was lecturing you, as if he expected you to fight the two of them at some point. Fat chance. Cooking war, sure, but you were not stupid enough to take on two magical skeletons whose bones were thicker than a human's. You were brittle, they were not. You were no fool. “Blue Magic,” he continued, stirring you from your thoughts, “Is Gravity Based Magic, As You Have Seen,” he expressed, briefly gesturing to the empty plate in your lap. It lifted of it's own accord due to his pointing and your eyes followed as it floated back into the house where it clattered into the sink.

 

If it hadn't occurred to you before after your texting with Sans, it did now. He was trying to impress you. When you looked back to him, his eyes were trained on your face, his own that neutral scowl that made him seem as if he were judging you. “This,” he began again, “Is A Very Strong Magic If Used Correctly.”

“yeah, but don't worry, cookie, we won't be showing you what all it can do today, you want out of here by nine, right?”

 

Record Screech. The silence that fell along the three of you lasted for what seemed to be an eternity, and soon, it was Papyrus to clear his throat. “It Would Have Been Nice To Know This.”

“you didn't give us much time to really say anything, to be fair, boss,” Sans reasoned while scratching his bare hip for a moment. “so, don't worry on it too much, we're just killin' time.”

 

You almost felt bad because this seemed to take a bit of wind out of Papyrus's sails, but he was far better at hiding it than you gave him credit for. Namely because he went right back into his lesson. “We Are Able To Use Anti-Gravity Measures, And Also Hyper-Gravity.”

 

“Ok, so you can levitate and squash things with your power, right?” making sure you were keeping up as you sipped at your coffee. The fact that you were on the same page tickled him and he flashed you a brief smile that could have been pride.

 

“See, Sans? This Human Is Exceptional. She Picked Up On It Far Quicker Than Most,” he reasoned with a rumbling chuckle that made you think of an avalanche. “That Is An Accurate Summation, Yes.”

“Have you ever squished anyone?”

“i personally like causing concussions,” Sans butt in with a smirk. “high speed flinging is my thing, i guess.”

“Well, I mean, I imagine that you'd be putting a lot more energy into swapping from levitation to pummeling someone under their own weight. You don't like doing more than you have to.”

He was thinking about it though. There was an idea. Fling someone and then, upon impact, shift to hypergravity. Oh, that sounded...neat. He'd have to do that sometime.

 

“i knew i liked you, cookie, you're a deviant.”

 

You made a face at that, figuring that it wasn't much of anything beyond common sense, but you relented and leaned back a little in your seat. Papyrus summoned up a rather long, arching and sharp bone rapier which had you blinking a little. They could make weapons out of bone? Well, you imagined that was the case, you'd heard of cultures in the rain forest that did similar things with cattle bones, or something like that. The details were fuzzy, and mostly forgotten due to the fact that this boneblade Papyrus held was damn near as tall as he was.

 

Were it not for the fact that it was shaped like a rapier, you might assert that it was a zweihander. He saw your gaping gaze and of course he gave a little turn on his heel as if to let you see the whole thing. He was showing off, and he knew he looked cool. “As Skeletons, We Also Have A Fondness For Bones,” no shit, Sherlock.

 

“and boning,” Sans added against your ear. When had he gotten there? He startled you to the point your cup went flying and you fell out of your seat, but rather than hit the ground, you felt something invisible grasping your chest. It was like a bungee cord attached to your heart, and the elastic pulled you up and away from the ground. Higher... Higher.

 

“SANS,” Papyrus barked, flicking his blade in his sibling's direction, “STOP STARTLING THE HUMAN,” this demand was adhered to as you were lowered back in your seat, and your floating coffee replaced in your hands. Sans was sweating, clearly he hadn't really thought you'd launch yourself into space, but, after you were settled again, he found himself laughing at your expense.

“sorry, cookie, the look on your face,” he wheezed while moving away from you. You held your chest as that odd elasticity went away, wondering if that was them exerting their magic on you. It was like you'd been rigged by some unseen safety net. Weird.

“STOP YOUR SHENANIGANS AND GET READY,” Papyrus hissed at his brother, taking pointe rather easily.

 

Watching them spar was... interesting. It started off easy, and it seemed as though Sans was something of a moving target as opposed to an actual sparring partner. Their motions were fluid, like a dance they had rehearsed over and over again for the majority of their lives. It was almost poetic... Papyrus would stab or swipe, and Sans would just make it out of the way in time, be it by a lean, side step, or using his magic to slide him out of reach. Soon, though, it became less of a gracefully choreographed dance, and shifted gears to become more violent, angry, frustrated. You could tell that as the time passed, sparring was becoming more and more like an actual fight.

 

The catalyst for the change didn't come until around seven-thirty. Papyrus had suddenly thrown a wrench in the gears of their well oiled machine and started playing dirty. The first fakeout made Sans jump to the wrong side and in a cyclonic spin at the waist, that blade swept upwards and sent a cut across Sans's face. As the saying went, it was on, now. Sans stumbled back, holding the marrow oozing cheek. Papyrus gave him a smug look but gave him no chance for purchase as he slammed himself into his brother to send him careening into the ground. That blade arched overhead with the intent of delivering a killing blow---

 

“Guys?” your voice made it all stop, and of course it seemed that they just remembered you were there. Both of them turned to look at you, tense in a manner you couldn't put your finger on. “I get that you guys are sparring and all, but you're getting a bit on the dirty side and we're going off in about an hour and a half,” you pointed out while standing with your coffee mug. You weren't going to say that you were a little scared by the sudden shift in mood, you weren't going to give them the satisfaction that you might have been put off by the fact that you were, in fact, coming to terms with being the housemate of two obviously powerful monsters.

 

The blade came down sharply nest to Sans's head, only to be used as a cane so that Papyrus could hoist himself to his feet. “That's Right, We Have Errands,” he said in a sharp tone. He kicked Sans's leg harshly, hearing the lazy thing groan while he rolled away to get up. “You Shouldn't Have Provoked Me.”

“oh c'mon, boss, it was just a teeny shortcut,” Sans defended, rubbing marrow from his cheek.

 

Shortcut? You hadn't seen anything, but now that you were looking, there was a red spot on the back of Papyrus's head, and from what you could see in your squinting, it was a sticker. That wasn't the only one, either, the longer you looked, the more you saw, littering him all over like a toddler had gotten into someone's scrapbooking. These stickers were all in some way, shape, or form childish. Some were Hello Kitty, some were colorful Lisa Frank, and it was clear that The Boss hated ALL of them. So that's what the dodging was, Sans was egging him on.

 

“Oh, I think those are cute,” you uttered suddenly, causing them both to look at you as if you'd grown another head. You gently peeled one of the Lisa Frank stickers off the smooth surface of his exposed ulna and set it on the back of your hand while going for another on his humerus.

 

Sans bit back a laugh, but eventually found that Papyrus was waving you off. “I'll Put Them On A Card For You, But Stop Touching Me,” he said with a finger shaking in your face. “Go Get A Shower, Sans, We Have Errands,” he said, moving away, him and all of his embarrassingly cute stickers, that were suddenly a whole lot less embarrassing.

 

“Here I thought it was gonna be a kick me sign, this is worse.”

“i like to come up with different means of tormenting my brother. didn't think he'd up the ante and start kickin' my ass. thanks for the save, cookie,” he gave you a wink and headed in after his brother so that they could get cleaned up for their adventure at the butcher's with you.

God, if sparring was like this every day, you hoped they didn't accidentally drag you into it one day. The last thing you wanted to be was a fucking meat shield to these two idiots.

 

You went inside and cleaned up your mess from cooking breakfast while you waited for them. This meant wiping the counters down, cleaning your utensils, the pan, everything. By the time you left that kitchen, you could eat off the floors if so inclined. But that's what plates were for. You moved to settle in the sitting room and sighed to yourself, looking around to take it all in for the first time. You were alone, so it gave you the opportunity to have a looksie.

 

The sitting room was large and adorned with a sectional that split the room a bit. In front of the seating was a large flatscreen television that was settled inside of an entertainment center. You could see through the glass that there were a few game systems and a library of games and movies to go with it. Your attention drifted to the back wall, where there was shelving built into the wall itself. It seemed like this place could have been a library, were it not for the television. Looking down you could see a bit of old pottery or porcelain in the carpet, and to avoid cutting yourself on it, you picked it up and trashed it. The place was nice, and almost felt homey. You felt as if you could get accustomed to the creature comforts here.

 

While the boys were cleaning up, you laid out on the sofa end of the sectional and rested your head on the armrest. You flicked on the television for some white noise while allowing your eyes to slide closed. The sound of Guy Fieri screeching about flavortown seemed to be the only thing on the food network at present, so you just left it on low volume while you watched in a tired daze. You had seen them fight today, and while you knew they were mostly holding back, it was still intimidating.

 

You lived in a house with two grown, very powerful monsters and it made you wonder if you were safe. Sure, they seemed to be respecting your needs a bit, no questions asked, but...still. This living situation was absolutely bizarre.

 

You were dozing when you felt a sudden weight by your feet. Sans lifted your legs to drape them over his lap while he watched whatever it was on the television now. “mm, thought it was man vs food for a minute.”

“Nah, that's the Travel Channel,” you said drowsily, not minding the fact that he'd taken to rubbing your shin as if you were a cat.

“one of my favorites.”

“I miss Adam, new guy's not that fab.”

“eh, he's okay.” Sans was quiet for a few moments before he cut his eyes to look at your dozing face. “say, cookie, are you uhm... alright with all of this?” he said, tipping his head back.

“I was two months late on the rent, and I'd been ignoring my landlord's calls for a couple weeks. I was about to be evicted, y'know? So, when The Boss insisted on me livin' here, I just kinda...” There was a moment where you thought about it, and upon realizing hie was still petting you, you sat up and drew your legs away carefully. He seemed embarrassed you'd caught him, but you didn't seem bothered. Skeletons didn't have skin, it made sense he wanted to touch. “Yeah, this is awkward but, like, if you guys can handle having a down-on-her-luck cook living with you, being a little demanding...”

“a little?”

“I don't think my demands are that unreasonable,” you pointed in his face and he laughed at you softly.

“i agree, i'm just fuckin' with you, cookie. sorry, couldn't resist. no need to _crumble_ under the teasing.”

“Oh, here we go, the _half-baked_ puns,” oh, it was on now, and the fact that his smirk widened suggested that he was more than a little amused.

“y'gotta be _kitchen_ me, cookie. my _skillet_ punning should be held in high e _steam._ ”

While the two of you laughed, you could hear a hard groan coming down the stairs, soon followed by,

“STOP ENCOURAGING HIM.”

“Oh, don't worry, Boss, we'll _simmer_ down on the jokes,” another groan. “But, the _whisk_ is high you'll deal with a few more when we go to the butcher.”

 

“holy shit, i love you,” Sans was wheezing with laughter, lifting to his feet while he lifted up, a hand dipping under his shirt to make a little heart flutter motion before he moved to help you up. “let's go before he bails out on us.”

“THIS IS MY LESSON AND YOU'RE GOING TO PLAGUE ME WITH TERRIBLE FOOD PUNS THE WHOLE TIME.” He sounded angry, “I WON'T HAVE IT.”

“No need to be salty, Papyrus,” you cooed, and that was the one that got him. He turned away, his face bending with a smile and a snort that suggested he was fighting the laugh.

“Go To The Car, You Fools.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ain't fantastic at drawing fight scenes, but I made the attempt! I'll keep practicing.
> 
> Anyway, I've unleashed the puns, I'm so sorry for all of you.
> 
> For details on upcoming updates, art for the stories, or if you just wanna talk at me:  
> https://ahouseinthewoods.tumblr.com


	12. To Market, To Market to buy a fat hog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Long Awaited Butchertrip!

Before you all got into the car, you made a rather scandalous suggestion that made both boneheads bleach in a fashion you didn't think possible in a dark house. “Hey, uh, can I drive? I know where the place is,” and you wanted to get behind the wheel of this beautiful car. The two skeletons were aghast that you dared to ask such a question, but after a moment, you sweetened the deal, “I mean, this way you can memorize the way there and you'll be able to go there on your own. Think of it as a lesson in a lesson...sorta.”

 

That seemed to be more convincing for the actual owner of the car. Eventually, with something of a gurgling huff, he threw the keys at you. You vibrated with a kind of excitement that should have been illegal. Sans got into the back and sprawled out with every intention of getting a nap in on the way, it would be quite the drive just to get into town. Papyrus had to adjust the passenger seat to accommodate for his lengthy legs. Soon enough you were behind the wheel and running your hands lovingly along it. It was as if you had finally returned to a lover that you hadn't seen in a long time. You must have been making a face because both skeletons cleared their throats at you.

 

“Sorry, I really like this car,” you uttered while turning the engine over to admire the purr and the vibration of horsepower into your fingertips. It sent chills shooting from the base of your spine like a firecracker up into your head. You were blossoming because you got to drive the car of your fucking dreams, and the boys just had to sit back and watch. In other words, fucking deal with it. At least Papyrus could see you weren't going to wreck his baby, so he relaxed considerably.

 

So much for Sans's nap, though, as he had chosen to sit up simply to lean over the middle seat to watch you as you shifted gears and pulled out of the driveway. You whipped your head around, placing a hand on Sans's skull to push him out of your view. You held him in place while you moved the car, only letting him up when you shifted to start driving again. He thought you hadn't noticed him leaning into your touch, but you had. You noticed it clearly and were currently pointedly ignoring it. That was embarrassing, but you knew that if he was so touch-starved, he'd be in your way to force you to move him again.

 

“didn't take you for a car aficionado, cookie,” he commented slyly, watching the way you drove with a practiced ease. “wish i could get someone to touch me like you just touched that wheel.”

“Y'know, this car's a cherry popper, right? You roll up in it, girls will just fling their panties at you,” you couldn't believe you said such a thing, but it came out far before you had the chance to catch yourself. You were aware you called him Cherry frequently, but you decided that it was time to hit his mute button before he even got started. Stopping at a sign, you turned to look him dead in his eyelights. The smile that curved your lips had him sweating, and the slight angle of your head had your neck showing off in a rather elegant fashion. “Lookin' to get your cherry popped, Cherry?” you watched as he sank into himself and into his coat's furry hood to lament on the fact that he'd opened himself up to that horrible assault.

 

Papyrus watched this entire exchange with a look of mild amusement, though it became a hard laugh at his brother's expense when the poor thing retracted himself into the back seat to die in silence. He turned slightly in his seat to rest his arm on the back to peer at his withering brother. “She Got You Good, Didn't She?”

“shut up, boss,” came muffled from inside the coat.

 

You pulled away from the stop sign and set about heading into town. You knew the place like the back of your hand, and while most people didn't know how to drive, you were a very defensive driver. When someone tried cutting you off, you could see that Papyrus was ready to get out and jump into some road rage, but you handled it with ease. There wasn't much that rattled your cage, and driving the Coup made you feel absolutely invincible if only for a while.

 

“Alright, so we're in town, start memorizing where we're goin', Vlad,” you mentioned, unable to catch yourself before the nickname came out. Shit.

“Vlad?”

“Uh... yeah, y'know, like that one guy in Romania,” you felt yourself sinking and heard Sans coughing, no, choking on a laugh behind you. Bastard.

“yanno, pap, like dracula,” Sans chimed in, leaning over the middle and back into your atmosphere. “she callin' you a tyrant, boss.”

“GOOD, SHE'S ON THE MARK, NOW, DRIVE!” he said, utterly chuffed that you would think so highly of him. He turned his gaze out the window and watched the street names as they passed, focusing mainly on the turns you took. You were more than a little relieved that he more or less ignored the somewhat sarcastic nickname as something more positive. You didn't think he was stupid, but you hoped that was something innocent on his part.

 

In short order, you arrived at the butcher, which was settled on a main street. You parked, easing into the parallel with ease. Throwing the car in park, you turned it off and passed Papyrus the keys. “Now you know how to get here,” and you got to have a whole lot of fun playing chauffeur in a car that you wouldn't mind getting --- no, no, stop being weird, y'fuckin' weirdo.

 

You got out and straightened your clothes, listening to the slap of your sandals against the cement as you went up and into the building. They would catch up, but for a moment, they lingered.

 

“can i just say, 'holy shit' for a sec?” Sans uttered under his breath.

“You Can, And You May,” Papyrus responded, hearing his sibling repeat a soft 'holy shit' under his breath. The squat skeleton came over the middle, settling into the driver's seat. He ran his hands over where yours had been moments ago as if he was trying to feel what you felt but nothin'.

“it's just a ca-”

“It's Not JUST A Car, Sans. It's MY Car,” Papyrus said smugly while getting out. “Come, You Might Learn Something.”

“pass, gonna take a nap while you kiddies play with your meat.”

“I Suppose You're Skipping Out On The Opportunity To Ask Her How She Likes Hers,” and with that, Papyrus closed the door and started inside.

 

Sans grumbled a few moments, thinking about it. Eventually, however, he got out and locked the car before rushing in after his brother.

 

You were already speaking to the Butcher, who claimed to have not heard 'hide nor hair' from you in a long time. You explained you'd lost your last job and that's why you hadn't been around. The man frowned and tugged you aside to ask if 'that man' tried to hurt you. “Stop, Jim, I'm okay. It's just a job. I'm teaching this one how to cook now,” you announced, patting the slender skeleton's arm. There was an odd pride about bragging that you were now teaching, but there was a saying that brought your mood down.

 

Those who can't do, teach. Your shoulders slouched as you realized this sadly, but you weren't allowed to wallow in that for long. The long arm lifted and a hand rested on your shoulder.

 

“AS OF YET I'VE LEARNED QUITE A LOT ABOUT CLEANING,” he announced, which made the butcher, Jim, chuckle lowly.

“Cleanliness in a kitchen is almost as important as the ingredients that you use. So, what'll it be, Y/N?”

“I was actually hoping you might be able to give me one of those old cuts posters so that I can pin it in the, uh, classroom.”

“Oh! Sure, give me a sec,” the man disappeared into the back, leaving you three alone. In the meanwhile, Papyrus and Sans made busy themselves to look through the case. While you waited, you decided to give a mini lesson.

 

“This, here, is all cow, and that over there is pork and lamb is on the far end. Now, when buying this stuff you wanna look for any dark spots, because that means that there was heat in the saw when cutting the animal, and that meant the heat in the saw cooked the meat. You don't want cooked meat and uncooked meat touching. This is why we go to a butcher. None of these have that,” you expressed happily, and you could see they were taking notes. Well, Papyrus was, anyway.

 

Sans tugged you over to the pork and pressed a digit against the glass. “them's some big ol sausages, cookie,” he said with a toothy grin. “bet you'd like somethin' like that in ya, huh?”

“Oh, Sans, you read me. I really love to grind my own meat so that I can pack my own sausage. When it's gone through the motions and is oh, so ready, when I finally put it in my mouth, it's so juicy and tender and has just the right amount of snap when I bite it,” the fluster games began and he shuddered a bit at your words. “C'mon, man, don't ruin this for your brother, we can joke around later, okay?” you whispered and, huffing, he nodded.

 

“You Can Make Your Own Sausage?” Papyrus heard some of it, apparently.

“Yes, it's pretty easy but we'd need to get a grinder,” you uttered and hummed. “Oh, and some casings. I could ask Jim for some.”

“Done, I Shall Procure A Grinder For Such An Occasion,” he announced. You'd made him hungry talking about food porn. Bless.

 

When Jim returned, he passed you an old butcher's chart. On it were the cuts for any meaty animal, from bird to fish, and everything in between. “How's that for your lesson?”  
“OH! Jimmyboy, this is great, thanks,” you cooed happily.

“What can I do for you aside that?”

“Well, I want to get a chuck roast and a pork loin,” you answered at length, tapping your chin. “I figure once we get through the leftovers we can just come back for more.”

“Isn't that always how it is? The Lady hates freezing stuff that ain't ice cream, boys, you be sure and remember that,” he teased while he made to start gathering up the items you needed.

“Do you have any dog casings?”

“Sure do, I'll ring those up for you too. Gonna make dogs with this? How's about I go grind you up a bit of both and bring it-”

“I didn't necessarily want them for today. Gonna teach Papyrus how to make Boeuf Bourguignon,” which caused the man to arch his brows a little. He gestured to the pork loin in question. “That's for tomorrow night's lesson. Two days in a row so we don't get caught up wasting.”

“Good plan,” he teased while wrapping the purchases in a bit of wax paper. “I'll put the skins away for you for when you're ready.”

“THANK YOU, BUTCHER HUMAN,” Papyrus said while he made his payment. “Do You Ever Consider Delivering?” he questioned then, noting the cards on the register. He took one and slid it into his pocket casually.

“We do for long time customers. Now that I know you have Y/N working for you, I'm inclined to jump to that offer. It's a small charge.”

“Understandable. So Be It, She Will Order, You Will Deliver, And Your Payment Will Be Directly Put Into Your Account.”

 

A demand. You knew that Jim had been struggling with business what with a new, large chain grocery showing up in town. This could actually help his business. “Th...Thank you,” he uttered while passing you the order. “I mean it, this means a lo-”

“Do Not Thank Me, Human, Thank Her. Let's Be Off,” and with that he turned on his heel to meander through the door and off to the car with Sans following close behind.

 

You gave Jim a sweet smile, and he thanked you before you left him. You were happy to help, he'd been damn near closing down for a long time now, especially since a lot of restaurants were buying out of town... You'd have to make something special for Papyrus for that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sans gets bullied.  
> Pap is amuse.  
> You get to help out a friend.
> 
> MY SONSSSSS.
> 
> You know the drill by now: Wanna see art, have updoots on chapters, or just heckin' talk to me?  
> https://ahouseinthewoods.tumblr.com  
> Bingo Bongo


	13. Home Again Home Again; Jiggity Jog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two more stops and a shocking revelation.

There were a few more stops that needed to be made before Papyrus decided to take you all home. He had mentioned to you quite plainly to 'keep an eye out' so that you could drive next time. He was teasing you. With his car. You should have never let him know how much you loved the car, and now he was going to tease you with the black beauty. You thought it unfair, you thought it cruel, but you realized that at the end of the day he was going to let you drive the aptly named 'cherry popper' whenever the hell you needed to. That in and of itself had your heart soaring.

 

The first stop was easy enough, it was a kitchen supply store that you'd come to a few times. You figured he wanted to get just a grinder.

 

Oh, how very wrong you were.

 

“It Has Come To My Knowledge That Our Instruments In The Kitchen May Be Subpar At Best,” he announced as he got out of the driver's seat and let Sans scramble out of the back like an over-fed dog. That was how Papyrus treated him at times, so the analogy made you smile a little. You must have been smiling fondly at the thought, because Papyrus took it as you softening for a shopping trip. He made note of that. Humans liked having things bought for them. You liked having kitchen things bought for you. It made sense, to him anyway. “And,” he began again, clearing his throat and shutting the door, narrowly missing closing Sans in the door too, “You Said I Needed My Own Knives.”

 

He was right, you had said 'we will get you some later,' and the time had apparently come. You regarded him for a long moment before you realized Sans was once again trying to get back in the car because he didn't want to go through all of this waiting around while you looked at 'fuckin' ramekins' as you heard him mumble it. For someone who was apt on paying for his sibling's lessons, he wasn't entirely supportive and it made you realize he mustn't have had any faith in your ability to teach.

 

 _Motherfucker, you watch me,_ you thought. _You sit back on your fat lil ass and you watch me._

 

Ok so, in hindsight, Sans had no ass and had no fat, but fuck he dressed it, so you were going to think it! Your cadence changed from aggressive internally to rather sweet and excited externally. The switch was flipped, if he wanted to think you were Miss Mary Sunshine, then you'd go get nametags printed out. “That's great, Papyrus! You're really taking initiative, huh?” you cooed to him, deciding to pour that sugar on thick. He worried with his keys a moment before he ended up pocketing them and passing the front of the car. It was locked. Sans was stuck with them.

 

“Come On, You Curr, The Lady Is Wasting Her Precious Time On Your Slowness,” he barked over his shoulder while he stooped slightly to loop your arm around his to lead you into the store. You had to admit, that was kind of cute, he was being chivalrous, while also being sort of a dick at the same time. Awwwe... “So, As You May Have Guessed, I'm Quite Fond of Knives.”

“No offense, 'Boss,' but I thought you were gonna cut me up with your hands alone when I first came to your house a few days ago,” you gave a little laugh and he waved one of those clawed hands dismissively.

“No Offense Taken, I Pride Myself In Having The Ability Without Having The Tool, You Understand?” he said with a sly smirk coiling his features. You realized all of the bumps and scrapes Sans had must have come from him, and after witnessing Pap's little love tap TO THE FACE, you imagined that his words held weight.

“If you ever actually cut me on purpose, Pap, I will turn you into soup stock,” you warned. He laughed, and while you might have been threatening, you realized that, yeah, it was probably funny.

 

“Oh, I Would Never Cut You _Intentionally_ Unless You were To Ask For It,” he cooed while pushing the door open and allowing you in first. He didn't hold the door open for Sans, and the squat skeleton ended up having it shut in his face. When you glanced back to check on him, you could see he was gradually starting to fume. He was mad, and you supposed he had a right to be. “Now,” he purred, gesturing at the haven he'd brought you to. “Lead The Way, I Trust Your Judgment.”

 

“So...we're just getting whatever?”

“Whatever You Want And The Knives _My Teacher_ Deems Necessary For Me To Have,” oh he knew how to push your buttons, didn't he? And he was pushing them in all the right ways at this point. Was he purposefully buttering you up?

 

Yeah. He was.

 

You must have lit up genuinely, because he was somewhat taken aback by how you beamed at him. “Sans,” he uttered firmly when the bell rung behind you.

“yeah, boss?” came a gruff response through grit teeth.

“You Push The Cart,” Papyrus was already following you through the store.

 

For a moment, Sans stood, watching in disbelief as his sibling was being so soft with you. What the actual fuck? Yeah, you were cute and shit, and you were really hot when you wanted to be, but this was trying his patience! They'd been out of the house too fucking long and he had shit to do while the whole schooling thing happened. This was TOO DOMESTIC for him, and he was not enjoying it. Still, he got the cart, because if he didn't, he'd be dunked into it and pushed around by an angry Papyrus. Last thing he wanted was to have heavy kitchen equipment thrown at him haphazardly because he was ruining Papyrus's time with YOU. Ugh.

 

And not even that, you wouldn't let him crack puns because it was 'ruining Pap's fun'. He steamed under the collar and followed the both of you, rounding the corner into the aisle he'd watched you disappear into. He wasn't even looking at you he was so angry, and for the moment, he was tuning you out completely. Papyrus, on the other hand, was so engrossed in the excitement you exuded that he realized that this could almost be a drug. Your soul was singing in such a way it made his thoughts fuzzy and frayed. He watched your delicate thumb brush along the edge of a proper and 'official' chef's knife. It was still in it's sheath, so you weren't cutting yourself, but you were telling him about a time in school you'd been 'working on your cuts' and had cut yourself. You didn't even realize that you'd cut yourself at the time, and it took your teacher to point out that you were leaking blood on the floor.

 

“A knife that's sharp enough,” you concluded, “you will never feel cutting you. But you will feel it's aftermath. I realize you guys don't have skin,” you turned to look at Papyrus, watching how he leaned on the cart that had just rolled up behind him. “B..but I imagine that it could still nick your bone and cause some kind of discomfort.” Well, that was embarrassing, you'd just let 'em in on something from school and, well, neither was laughing. You thought it was kind of funny, how you'd been too stupid to realize you'd cut yourself.

 

“Where's The Fun If You Can't Feel It?” Papyrus asked with his head cocking to one side. Oh, so he was one of those. Shoulda guessed ol' Vlad would be a sadomasochist.

“Well, these aren't exactly for cutting people, it just happens sometimes, Pap,” you answered while handing him the knife. “Do you like that one?”

The knife you'd picked up for him wasn't unlike your own. His might have been a bit better, however, judging by it's weight and balance. You needed to get new knives for yourself, but yours had a little life left in them so you weren't going to bother for a while. The handle of his was a sleek black that you thought was polished, but it seemed not to be.

 

His long fingers wrapped about the handle carefully, testing it's grip. He made a motion that was almost a fencing move and you couldn't stop yourself from gently rolling your eyes. “Sweetheart, it's not for fighting the meat,” you said this before you could really screech to a halt, but it seemed everything else had. The world stopped and Papyrus turned his gaze on you. _Sweetheart_. You weren't sure if he was happy to hear that or not, his expression was rather neutral and you were having a hard time reading him.

 

“No Food Nicknames For Me, Huh?” he finally questioned with a tone of amusement as he put the knife in the cart. Sans had tuned in to the tension, or course. He thought you were finally going to get yours.

“Sweethearts are a candy, I think?” you defended, hearing him chuckling. You honestly wished he'd pretended not to hear it, but he had, and now you were screwed. “Then there's Sweet Tarts,” and you just... kept fucking yourself.

“I Do Not Think That Anything With The Word 'Sweet' In It Suits Me.”

“Sweetbreads,” you countered.

“What Is That?”  
“Oh, it's Offal,” which made him arch his brows.

“sounds awful,” Sans chided sarcastically. He knew EXACTLY what you were talking about and that vicious grin suggested so.

 

You were busily getting another knife, he needed a paring knife, a boning knife and a fillet knife, you reasoned, and if he GOT OFF THIS SUBJECT you were going to find him the best cleaver you could lay your eyes on.

 

“I Should Like To Know,” of course he did.

“Sweetbreads are very specific parts of the animal that most people wouldn't eat, uhm...” you weren't fond of this particular culinary thing, and considering how green you were getting, Sans- for all his anger at you- took pity.

“those are some pretty great looking knives, pap, you gonna cut someone down?”

 

Thank you Sans. You turned your gaze for him, brows knit together in a silent thank you. He simply nodded to you and rubbed his thumb against the tips of his forefinger and middle finger in the universal sign for money. He was telling you you owed him. Great.

 

Once you got all of the knives Papyrus needed and a few little things for yourself, you found yourself looking over grinders. You wanted to nab the one that they had back at your old job, but realizing that would probably upset you more than anything, you opted for something else. The one you picked looked like it had a giant clamp on it which would stabilize it against the center island back home. Any questions that Papyrus happened to have in regards to them, you answered as if it was rehearsed. Truthfully, you just...really loved your craft.

 

It was when you were at the checkout that you had a brief panic. You had bought meat earlier and it was in the car. Rotting. “SHIT! Shit,” you hissed, looking towards the door with sort of horror on your face.

“s'wrong, cookie?” Sans questioned while Papyrus dealt with paying.

“We've been in here for like an hour and a half and we bought meat before we ca-”

“oh, i shortcut that home already, it's sitting happy in the fridge. _chill_ out, cookie, you're arright.” He watched the way your face changed from panic to relaxed again and found the constant flipping of your soul inside to be pretty funny. “did that spook you that much?”

“You guys can't get sick off of that, but I can,” you explained, and he nodded.

“we can get sick, but i dunno if that would do it. never been foodsick before.” Sans thought back through his life and found nothing in his memory that would suggest he'd been sick on food before. He liked getting fucking trashed, though, but that would be between him and the bottle.

 

–

 

Once you'd left, you were told that there was one more errand that needed to be dealt with. You were made to sit in the back seat this time, which bothered you a great deal because of the lack of belts in the back. Sensing your frustration, however, Sans announced it was for your own good. “you don't want these skeezy guys seein' you, okay?”

“Skeezy guys? What kind of company do you keep?” you questioned, gasping faintly when you felt a squeeze to your soul, pinning you carefully into the seat. Didn't need seat belts when one of them exerted their magic on you to make them unnecessary.

“The Kind We Don't Want Seeing You,” Papyrus uttered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. You had put that much together, but for now you decided to button it up and just enjoy the ride for what it was.

 

You didn't recognize anything out of the windows and it made you wonder where the hell they were going. Maybe you all should have just, dunno, gone home? Hell, couldn't Sans just shortcut you there? Probably not, you realized, he probably only had a certain amount he could do before he was a sweating, near dead mess. The area of town you were driven to was deserted, as if you'd just driven into a ghost town. Maybe that was the case. You felt a pulling on your soul, and eventually found yourself laying in the back seat. Sans was shrugging off his coat and dropped it over top of you as the car started to slow. You could hear gravel crunching beneath the tires. You listened to them speak in some odd language before you felt a slender hand run down your side. “Stay Down, No Matter What You Hear.”

 

“This is kinda scary, Pap,” you mumbled, muffled beneath the heft of Sans's coat.

 

“Yes, Well, I Should Have Kept Better Time. Keep Low,” simple as that. The fact he was taking responsibility suggested that they'd intended to take you home before now. That didn't work out, did it?

 

The exchange was startlingly brief, and you found yourself holding your breath while you strained to listened to the conversation at hand. You'd never heard Papyrus whisper before, and so it was exceedingly difficult.

“Oh, But I'm Certain You Can Convince Him,” was all that you could make out before you heard a grating chuckle outside the car.

“pleasure doin' business,” came from Sans, and soon enough they were driving off. You screeched when you felt the safety of Sans's coat being pulled back to show off your quivering form. “alright, cookie, coast is clear,” came the familiar baritone while he leaned back to lazily count a stack of bills.

 

“Mind telling me what the fuck, though?”

“Humans Have A Fascination For Magic Objects. They Think It Makes Them Powerful. We Made A Little Profit On Something Insignificant To Us.”

“Convince who of what?”

“mmh, that's a need to know thing, babycakes, and you don't need to know.”

 

You were starting to feel more and more that you'd been sucked into a Mafia Noir movie, because that's what this was shaping up to be. It sounded bad, and it spooked you. “Am I gonna end up dead because of this shit? Cause if I am I should just move the fuck out. I'll still be your teacher but I'll need to find somepl-”

 

“You Aren't Going To End Up Dead, Calm Yourself,” Papyrus looked at you in the rear view, and you had the sneaking suspicion he was afraid you'd keep to it. “We Just Work With Some Unsavory People Occasionally. The Intention Was To Have You Home Before Now.”

“yeah, pap was pretty lenient with that guy. he shorted us a fifty, by the way.”

“I'll Take It Out Of Him, No Worries.”

 

“No offense, but if you want to keep me separated from this, talk about this privately. Ignorance is bliss and I'm not feeling very ignorant.”

 

–

 

When, finally you were home, you made yourself useful by taking some of today's haul into the house. You felt a little nervous about this weird gang bullshit, but something told you that if someone had seen you with them before now, you were likely safer with them than in another apartment you couldn't afford. “We'll uh... start our lesson for supper, round about four, sound good?”

“Fine By Me,” Papyrus uttered while looking over a mixer that you had gotten. He opened it with a draw of one of his claws and set it up with a sort of lazy air to him. He was thinking, you could tell, he was always quiet when he was thinking.

 

“I'm gonna take a quick sleep on the couch, I'm uh... a little tired.”

“i may join you,” Sans said once he put the last box down and rubbed his cranium. You didn't answer him, figuring that he would follow you anyway. You found yourself snuggled into the sectional in no time, dozing off while Sans flipped channels to try and find something he could sleep to.

 

Turned out he'd settled on Man vs Food, and you found yourself giving a tiny smile at the fact that, while he liked it, you were positive that was to satiate you more than him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm, maybe this is the way to go about it...


	14. Mis En Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cooking Lesson!
> 
> Starts out with a Sans POV, ends with you. Enjoy

Sans POV;

 

So, a nap didn't happen for Sans, though he might have wanted one greatly. No, he had just gotten comfortable after watching you fall asleep and was prepped for the long haul when he felt Papyrus's talon grab him by the collar and hoist him off of the sofa. So this was how it was going to be. The boss was waiting for you to be indisposed of before the beatings happened. Wouldn't want to stain his sterling reputation with you by pummeling him in front of you. That would just not do. The boss was silent as he gripped a clawed hand over Sans's mouth before a single curse could escape his teeth. The rumbling growl he let out must have been enough to tell Papyrus that he was about to unleash a slew of slurs that would have awakened you.

 

He was being abducted.

 

Papyrus drug him through the house and to the library away from the sitting room and sound proofed thanks to the books lining the walls. Great. Sans found himself being thrown into a chair hard enough that, were he human, he would have most certainly come down with a case of whiplash. Could he get away with pretending? No? Okay. He uttered a low groan anyway and sank in the seat to watch his brother pace angrily. He knew that his brother had fucked up, but he also knew that Papyrus was going to pin the blame on him.

 

Because, you know, adults never took responsibility.

 

“If You Hadn't Drug Your Feet All Damn Day She Wouldn't Have Had To Hear ANY OF THAT,” his voice boomed in the safety of the room. He had thrust a clawed digit in his face. Sans didn't realize he'd lifted his hands in mock surrender until he saw them from the corners of his eyes. Immediately, he dropped them.

 

“look, boss, she didn't hear anything, and that relic bullshit you came up with on the fly was choice,” he said while leaning against the arm of the seat, trying to come off as relaxed. He wasn't, though. His brother didn't see him sweating now that his back was turned. “she's safe.”

“SHE WANTS TO LEAVE YOU IMBECILE,” Papyrus hissed at him while he ran a thumb over his knuckles in a manner that he always had done out of nervousness. Pap didn't realize Sans could read his pill rolling for what it was- anxiety.

 

“boss, she's not goin' anywhere. she went right to sleep on the couch for fuck's sake. you're worryin' for nothin',” Sans reasoned with him, watching that sharp, angular face whip around to look at him like he was going to bite his head off. Papyrus probably would if he could, he realized, but he tried to pretend he wasn't worried about the thought. “look, i'll deal with paolo, okay? he shorted us fifty, and i'll get it back if i have to bleed it out of him, no biggie. you gotta do your lesson, and i'll go and do mine. seriously, don't worry about it.”

 

He might have been relaxing, Sans thought, but if he was, he was having issues telling save for the fact that the rolling along his knuckles had stopped. “She Can't Know What's Really Going On,” he uttered lowly, softly enough that it took Sans by surprise.

“well, no shit bu-”

“But She Probably Will Find Out Eventually, Won't She?”

“how long do you expect her to stay here when she decides that your lessons are done?” Sans asked seriously.

“I Don't Want Her To Leave...”

 

Sans felt his heart break suddenly, and it was the first time in a long time he actually felt this badly for his brother. Papyrus had it bad. B.A.D. Bad. He took a breath and rubbed the back of his neck. He had to make this work, even if it meant he had to get in on the game. Sure, casual flirting was one thing, but if it took him working some kind of charm to make you feel safe, to make you want to stay.

 

“alright, boss, you're not gonna like what i'm about to say, but hear me out,” he lifted up, brushing his hands down his front to straighten out, “we work together in this, make her want to stay.”

“No, Because You'll Feel Entit-”

“boss, i said hear me out, right?” Sans interrupted, lifting his hands gently as if he were trying to calm a rabid animal. “if we work together, keep our facts straight, both try and get her to like us enough, she'll stay. she'll love us too much to bear the idea of leaving. hell, even if we gotta spook her a bit. that shit today with paolo scared the fuck outta her, if she gets to the mindset that she's at risk just leaving us, that's in our favor, right? and so what if we have to sh-”

“I'm Not Sharing.” Papyrus was going to be an issue there, and Sans knew it. He'd have to work something out to make it all even.

“look, pap, i'm not gonna barge in on your time with her, but if you want her to stay, that little dating manual you've got isn't gonna do shit to help you. let's face it, boss, you're a scary guy.”

 

Oh, the look of offense on Papyrus's mug was priceless, “not that that's a bad thing,” Sans added simply to spare his feelings. “but, some ladies need a gentler touch.”

“She Doesn't, She's Already Threatened Me Twice, And She's Demoralized You …. Quite A Bit,” he said in a tone that was almost wistful.

“yeah, but... ok, lookit it this way- y'know that time we had the cat come up to the house and it got all puffed up and hissed and spit when you tried to lure it into the house?”

“Yes,” Papyrus mumbled. His cat warmed up eventually, but it took a lot of sweet talking. “Where Is She Now?”

“probably killing rats in the yard- stop changing the subject,” Sans grumbled, rubbing his hands along his skull, “sometimes this kind of thing is a show so as to not get hurt, right?”

“So, I Should Treat Her Like A Cat,” Papyrus reasoned.

“i mean i dunno any woman who doesn't like her kitty pet a little.”

“That Was Terrible, And You Should Feel Terrible...”

“look, let's do this together, it couldn't hurt.”

“Fine.... Fine...”

 

–

 

-Back To You!-

 

You woke on your own on the sofa around fifteen til four, which you found to be rather great, considering the time you wanted to get started. You sat up, dropping your legs onto the floor so that you could get one good stretch in. You glanced over to find Sans awake, flipping channels once again. “No nap, Sans?”

“nah, watched you jealously for a while and then decided i'd see if there was a movie on,” he said lamely.

“Mmmm, yes, be jealous, it feeds me,” you teased while you hoisted to your feet. You pulled your hair out of it's pony-tail and set about drawing it back once again so that you could cook without it hanging in your face. Sans watched you, or rather, your hands going through your own hair. It was as if he thought it was pretty in some way, and while it was slightly embarrassing, it did give you a momentary boost of confidence. “Where's the boss?”

 

“eh,” he mumbled, looking back to the television. “i think he probably went and crashed a bit himself, he always gets a little built up after we deal with... well, y'know,” he shrugged some with the remote dangling in his palm.

“You weren't selling antiques, were you?”

“we're going to say that we were, cookie. and you're going to accept that excuse, okay? boss was... all kinds of bent out of shape that you even had to be involved.”

 

You stared at him for a long moment before you rubbed the back of your neck in thought. “Can I make a request of you, Sans? And you keep it, or, maybe run it by the Boss and see if that's okay with him?”

“sure, kid, shoot. what's on your mind?” Sans dropped the remote in his lap and craned his head to look at you. You noticed he'd shed his coat a while ago, leaving him in a tshirt that really didn't suit him at all. It looked stolen, like he'd nabbed it off of a Spencer's shelf for shits and giggles because it said something along the lines of 'ask me about my rack' with a pair of antlers underneath.

 

Didn't suit him at all.

 

“Let's avoid those people coming here... please?” you uttered softly. You didn't like showing how worried you were, and showing these guys weakness seemed a bad idea. You lifted your gaze and realized your nerves must have been showing on your face, because he immediately got up and took your hands in his own. Phalanges closed along your scarred up fingers and he brushed his thumbs over your knuckles.

“don't worry, they'll never come here, alright? pap says he has more class than a bunch of wanna-be humans tryna play mobster.” He could tell that his words weren't making you feel any better. “look, i know shit's kinda scary, i mean you've been here about, what, three days now, and this has been kinda overwhelming. i get that, respect it even, but, cookie, we ain't gonna let nothin' happen to you.”

 

“Promise me that, or I'll--”

“make me into soup stock, yeah, i know.” He lifted a hand where you could watch him draw an X over his chest. “cross my heart, hope to die, cookie, we won't let anythin' come between you and that kitchen in there. we know the love of your life when we see it,” he teased with a wink.

“Should I go wake up Papyrus?”

“NO,” came a voice behind the two of you. It was so loud, so abrupt, that you found yourself throwing Sans in the way. Meatless meatshield.

 

Sans stumbled a bit, bumping into Papyrus, who shoved him off of him easily. The two shared a look before they laughed a bit. “i'm sorry, cookie, that was--- oof, that was somethin'. gonna throw me like a grenade every time you get spooked?”

“Promise to explode on impact next time?” you countered.

“Oh, We Wouldn't Want HIM Going To Pieces. It Would Be Hell Watching Him Pull Himself Together,” oh no, Papyrus was funny. This wasn't fair.

“oh, boss, you do care.”

 

You couldn't stop the faint laugh that passed you as you scaled the couch and hopped over the back. You didn't want to pass them by, and of course, you wanted to be in the kitchen before Papyrus. You could hear him following you, judging by the soft clicking of his heels on the hardwood floor.

 

First things were always first, the two skeletons watched you clean your hands and up your arms as if you were about to start surgery. Papyrus watched with the vigorous fashion with which you cleaned yourself, and then how you dried up. He decided he'd do his best to replicate that, and watched from the corner of his eye as you took out your knives, as well as his own. “SO,” you began pleasantly, waiting for him to cut the water off. You watched Sans take his seat at the Breakfast nook, deciding he'd watch this chaos. “I was thinking we'd do the Boeuf Bourguignon tomorrow because it sorta kinda takes three hours to cook properly,” you concluded while withdrawing the pork tenderloin from the fridge. “So, we're doin' this instead,” you expressed while setting it on the chopping block and carefully unwrapping it from the wax paper.

 

“Now that we've washed our hands, the first thing that we do is get our mis en place,” you explained, watching as he dried off and watched the way you leaned on the counter. “I got the meat out, so here's what I want you to grab.”

 

He was silent as he went to fetch the ingredients you listed off. Honey, two oranges, garlic, rosemary, and-- much to his chagrin, dijon mustard. He gave you a look of betrayal, but you assured him it would be fine. He set these out and watched as you set the oven to preheat. “Now, we're going to chop up some garlic,” you expressed, plucking two cloves off of the head and peeled yours using your thumb and the butt of your blade. Your eyes watched how he mimicked your actions with his own knife, making absolutely sure that he had it down to a science. It was cute and kind of funny to you, but you'd not say so.

 

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched him jolt when you slammed the flat side of your knife into the garlic to flatten it before you set about mincing it easily. You did it slow for him to see how you did it. “When you're cutting anything on the board, you never lift the knife off of the block, okay? Tip always down and you rock back on the heel like this,” you said. Once he got it figured, you sped up. “Oh, shit,” you mumbled to yourself.

“What, Did You Cut Yourself?”

“N---no, I forgot to get out carrots and potatoes,” you said as you nabbed one from the fridge, and then the sweet potatoes from the pantry. You took a moment to wash several from each. “I mean, after all, we're doing this recipe so that you can learn how to use that knife.”

“I'll Have You Know I'm An Expert In Kni-”

“Then I suppose you don't need me in here at all, huh?” you countered slyly. That shut him up as you made to start peeling the potatoes. “Thought so. Now, put that cut up garlic in a bowl and set it aside, we'll get back to that in a minute.”

 

It took no time to peel and cut the potatoes and carrots. You put them in a bowl of salt water and set them aside to wait their turn. “Alright,” you purred happily and tossed him one of the oranges. He almost fumbled it.

“And, What Are We Doing With Th--” he stopped as he watched how you rolled the citrus against the counter in such a way it made it seem as if you were fondling something. He swallowed the knot that formed in his nonexistent throat.

“Somethin' wrong?” you asked, watching as he hesitated to do the same. How embarrassing this was. Or, rather, he was behaving like it was. “What? Papyrus, c'mon, you can say what's on your mind.”

“This Looks Ridiculous,” he expressed.

“You gotta roll it to get the juices flowing. You don't just dive into a girl, you gotta lather her up first,” you pointed out. “Think of cooking like dating someone, you gotta warm 'em up before you eat the dish.” The shade of color that came across his face was so deep it was almost wine-colored. Oh. That was cute. That was real cute. You could hear Sans crowing with laughter as you set about cutting your orange in half. “We're gonna juice it,” you said, drawing out another bowl to squeeze your oranges into. He did the same, though he almost pulverized the two halves he was holding.

 

“Now,” you said, cutting the remnants of your orange into fine slices. “This is gonna go on the meat when we throw it in,” you explained, holding up a decimated orange ring. “The peel's got extra flavor, and so does the pulp. Y'don't eat it though, that's another lesson for later.” You watched him nod at you as you reached for the honey and put some into the bowl with the juice. Then went the garlic, and the dreaded mustard that made him grimace. When you put the cap back on, you tossed it to Sans so he could try it if he wanted, and he did- no surprise.

 

“this is fancy shit, cookie.”

“That's nothin', wait til you try the hot n spicy shit,” you mused while you whisked everything together. “Now it's Assembly Time!”

“Assembly Time,” Papyrus mumbled, to you. He could tell you were in your element, as excited as you were about this. He watched you withdraw one of the new glass pyrex baking dishes. You layered the bottom of the pan with a few of the cut sweet potatoes, a few of the carrots and laid the meat on top. Salt, Pepper on both sides before the rest of the veg was tucked in around it. “Want to pour this on top?” you questioned him, and it disturbed him out of his thoughts.

“Oh, Of Course,” he mumbled, taking the mixture that you'd concocted.

“Gotta be even all over everything,” you explained, and he nodded to you. He did well, making sure everything was properly covered.

 

Next, you measured out a tiny pile of rosemary in the palm of your hand, explaining that the dead center was a tablespoon and you wanted a little less than that. You then sprinkled it over everything, placed your orange rings atop and put it in the oven with a small metal pan of water on the rack just beneath it. “That's gonna help it cook the vegetables quicker,” you explained at length while shutting the oven.

 

“Now, we wait.”  
“How Long?”

“Eh, Forty-five minutes, give or take. Enough time to watch something on television or something,” you mentioned while setting a timer on your phone- just in case.

“die hard?”

“No, Ugh, No. It's Not Even Gyftmas! Let Her Pick Something.”

“you sure? she might pick us some girly chick flick like meangirls or somethin'.”

 

It hadn't been Mean Girls. Sans made you mad with that comment-- You opted to watch Halloween, instead. Who cared if it wasn't Halloween? Michael Myers was the shit. Half-way through, you'd gone to get dinner out of the oven and plated everything up. The two skeletons were impressed by your ability to carry three plates at once, but they were more impressed by the food.

 

“Good job, Papyrus. Gold star,” you mused as you tucked your feet underneath yourself to turn the movie back on.

“This... Is Grand, Thank You,” he cooed around his fork.

“You did it, I just helped a little.”

“well, don't matter who did it, shit's good. did you take a picture to make it last, boss?”

“Oh, you do that too? I took a picture when it was in the pan, I can shoot it to your phone, though,” you offered, and of course, he nodded.

 

This turned out pretty great... 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll throw the recipe up somewhere when I get the chance, kiddies!


	15. The Game begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of competitive fluff.
> 
> There's a Pap POV here, you've been warned.

So, the first few days had been a bit... difficult. You'd started out in a rough spot with your student, and shaky grounds with your boss who had treated the whole thing like one big joke at first. Now, a few weeks in, you were starting to get into a bit of a routine. In the mornings, you usually watched them do their training- assuming Sans woke for it- and in the afternoons, class. You would hold your classes every other day, and then have him cook something in between those lesson days. At first his cooking hadn't been... very good at all. He either over salted things or it didn't cook evenly. You were impressed at how he could have made lasagna and somehow have overcooked, perfectly cooked _AND_ undercooked noodles all in the same dish. How did this even happen? Papyrus made it happen, and while the flavor was SORT OF okay, it was clear that he had a lot to work on.

 

After you informed him of his errors in the first time he'd cooked for you, he had been so offended that, after yelling at you and insulting your 'clearly flawed palate,' he ignored or avoided your presence all together. That had gone on for three days before he grew up and apologized with a peace offering in the shape of a bottle. A Dom Pérignon bottle, in fact. You were somewhat shocked, because only ONE of these bottles averaged out at about three hundred fifty dollars. He'd sank that much money on an _apology_ to you. You couldn't help but to wonder if you were worth that much money as a gift, but given that he was trying his hardest to be kind in lieu of being utterly insulted...

 

Yeah, you deserved it.

 

“I'll Try Better Next Time,” he had said, not necessarily talking about his outburst and insults, but more his cooking. It made you wonder if he'd lashed out because he was embarrassed that you might not think he was up to par. He had a lot of potential, and you'd told him as such, so, perhaps because of that he took your critique extra hard?

 

Something that you had taken up doing over the course of your life was keep in correspondence with Mr. Lombardo. He had been like a father to you, and often introduced you as the daughter he and his wife had never been able to have. You were fine with this, because your own family hadn't been fantastic. Unofficially adopted, you treated him as one would expect a child to treat their parents.

 

Because of your close relationship to Lombardo, you often found yourself sending him messages, even now. You told him you'd taken on a student and 'dad' was over the moon with this information. He told you that you would have to teach Papyrus how to 'modify recipes' before making his own. It would seem that creating was easier when you had a base knowledge of some of the old school things. Putting a spin on it. So, your chef was kind enough to send you some of his own recipes to 'modify' and send the results back.

 

You loved that man.

 

So, with this idea in mind, you sat in the breakfast nook, scribbling up the recipe from your phone. You figured that you would give this to Papyrus as a test for the next week or so. As you were writing down the recipe when you heard bare boned feet clapping the floor. You turned to see Sans shuffling in to throw on a pot of coffee. You learned he didn't sleep a lot because of insomnia, and when he finally did crash, it was due to his body being so exhausted it couldn't go on anymore. You felt bad for him in a way, but at least he was around when you needed him. “How's tricks?” you asked while you scribbled down the prep for this recipe in very simplified terms.

 

“eh... could be better, y'know how that goes,” he answered with a limp shrug of his shoulders. While the coffee dripped, he moved to sit across from you, elbows on the table as he peered about all of the notes on lessons that had happened, where Papyrus could improve, and then lessons that were going to happen which would address those exact things. “what's the menu today?”

 

“Gonna teach him how to do sausages today because I finally got those casings from Jim. I'd been puttin' it off, yanno?” you lifted your gaze to look at him, and he took one of your recipe cards to study it lazily. “Got a few other meats delivered this mornin' too, for variety.”

“mmm, see, that sounds good to me. this gonna be a lesson i can sit in on? cause i mean, i kinna wanna know how to make 'em too,” he offered lazily while sitting back in his seat and putting your work back down.

 

“Like those dogs, do you?”

“hell yeah, besides, maybe i'll start a lil side business with the lessons you're givin', and actually do it legit as opposed to fakin' it to make it.”

“Oooh, liars go to hell, Sans,” you teased while you sipped at your chocolate milk.

“baby, been there, done that, got the t-shirt and the commemorative plaque. lyin' ain't gonna send me back there.” He yawned, lifting a hand to cover his maw for a moment or two. He was more than a little ready for his coffee, but he had a feeling it was going to be a few minutes more to let it steep.

 

“Didn't sleep good?” you asked softly, a frown stitching your features. He lifted his gaze to meet with yours, somewhat embarrassed that you were worried about him.

“nah, i never do, cookie, but that's okay, it could be worse, right?” It would seem Sans felt like he'd said the wrong thing because you might have deflated a bit. “look, cookie, y'don't gotta worry 'bout me. it's shit, yeah, but i'll sleep eventually, right? besides, if i tried to go back to bed right now, th'boss would come and kick my ass and drag me down here for training.”

 

He had a point there, you thought. If he went and did training, maybe he could catch a nap in a little bit? He'd be so tired he'd have to nap, right? Right. “If you're sure you're gonna be okay, I'll drop it,” you said, and he smirked, nodding to you.

“m'totally fine, cookie. been dealin' with this since the boss was baby bones, so,” he shrugged and leaned back a little so that he could urge himself to get up and out of the booth to get himself some coffee. “want some?”  
“Yeah, thanks,” it wasn't infrequent that you and Sans spent time like this in the morning while Papyrus was out for a run. You'd learned quite a lot about them just in a few weeks by spending time with them in their own element. Sans was lazy, sure, but he was relaxed, and it showed he wanted to ALWAYS be relaxed, but certain things wouldn't allow for it. Certain things like the whole weird Mob bullshit and, you know, 'The Boss'. You'd asked a few questions regarding their- ehm- less than legal business, but Sans nearly always told you the less you knew, the better off you would be. You were inclined to believe that, because if you had too much information, wouldn't that make you a target?

 

You were stirred from your thoughts when the mug was placed down in front of you. Over the course of the last four mornings, Sans had figured out the way you took your coffee, and it sort of tickled you that he'd commit it to memory. It kind of made you feel like you mattered.

 

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but it clicked closed when he heard the door in the next room open and shut and the sound of feet on the hardwood floor clicking towards the kitchen. You didn't doubt he wanted to open up to you more, but it was difficult for him when his brother was around.

 

You decided you'd ask why that was at another date.

 

“It's Shocking To See You Out Of Bed This Early,” Papyrus uttered, a jab towards Sans while he moved to pour himself some coffee.

“y'know how it goes, sometimes the bed ejects ya, boss,” he said while thumping down with his plain black coffee. He watched Papyrus briefly, then turned his gaze on you. You had gone back to working on your writing. More importantly, you were inking the edge of the card Red to show that it was for a Friday class. It had taken him a bit, but he realized how organized you were, right down to color coding your lesson plans so as to not get them mixed up. It was clever. You were clever.

 

“How Are You This Morning, Miss Y/N?” well he'd stopped calling you Human, that was a plus. He'd dropped that, save for the odd tantrum a few weeks ago, which was nice and it kind of made you feel less dehumanized.

 

Also nice.

 

“I'm fairing well. I got to talk with my 'dad' this morning,” you commented. He whipped his head around so quickly that you thought he would have pulled something if he had muscles.

“Your Father?”  
“Oh, uhm... he's not actually my dad, he was my Chef in college,” you explained with a smile. You watched with a grand bit of curiosity as Papyrus ran his thumb across his knuckles. He did that a lot, you noticed, and you wondered what it meant.  
  
Sans knew, but he wasn't talkin'.

 

“Oh, I See. I Oftentimes Forget That You Humans Have A Need To Form Such Bonds.”  
“Y---yeah, well, my actual dad kinda bailed out and my mother dumped me on my grandma, so... It was nice when he took me under his wing,” the smile on your face was fond and it made the two boneheads feel like their souls skipped violently for a moment. You didn't notice the grimace that briefly passed Sans, nor the way Papyrus cleared his invisible throat. “But, uh, anyway, so I talked to Antony today and he sent me a recipe!” You held up your newly printed out card and gave it a wiggle. “So, this is going to be your first test, which we'll be doing next week. On Monday, I'll give you this card, and give you an entire week to modify the recipe. On Friday you'll cook what you've come up with. Deal?”

 

“Sounds Simple Enough,” he said simply, “But, I Thought The Point Was To Learn How To Make My Own Recipes?”  


“Something you'll find in the kitchen is that most things have a base recipe. Many pasta dishes are this way. When you learn how to modify a recipe, learning how to write your own is fairly simple thereafter,” you explained while tucking the card into your binder and looking over a few things you'd scribbled down.

 

“So, let's us an example, Barbecue,” you offered.

“barbecue,” Sans looked at you over his mug with arched brow ridges, amusement in his tone.

“Yes. There's a difference in, say, Texas Barbecue and Memphis barbecue, but they have the same base; Pulled pork with a sauce. The recipes may be vastly different, the cooking styles, too, but they share the same basic principle.”

“ohh, i get it,” you didn't think he did, you thought he was saying it to get a rise out of Papyrus, because it worked. The taller skeleton got flustered enough to nearly break his coffee mug as he slammed it on the counter to pour himself a bit. You noticed this between the two a lot. It was as if they were trying to gain favoritism, almost compete a bit, but you weren't sure what they were competing over.

 

Surely not you.

 

...Right?

 

“I Understand The Meaning, It Makes Me Think Of Varying Schools Of Fighting, At Their Core They Are the Same,” good save, Vlad.

 

“Well, that's... kind of similar, so if that's what helps me make sense to you, I'm all for it,” you said merrily, grinning to yourself. That smile gave them both pause once again, but soon enough, Papyrus joined you both at the table, looking over the slip of paper that said 'mini lesson'.

“Is It Not My Night To Cook?” he questioned with a glance towards you.

“Well, I figured that we could both do this one together. So that way you get a lesson and get to cook all in one. Deal?”  
“Fair Enough. Did Sans Put You Up To This One?” he questioned with a sly smirk.

“No, not really. It's the end of the summer and I'm craving a cook out like you wouldn't believe,” you said with a little frown, “I got a lot of meat in from yesterday's order delivered this morning and Jim sent some prime cuts due to my request for a little extra fat. Soo... We're makin' sausages n havin' a _weenie roast_.”

“Mm, A Regular Sausage Fest, Then, Is It?”

 

There was a beat where everyone was silent. You stared at him wide eyed as if he had grown another head before you broke into a fit of laughter. You didn't even notice the two brothers glaring over the table at one another, or the smug look on Papyrus's face. That 'See, I Can Do It Too,' kind of look. “Alright, okay, that was good,” you nudged him lightly with your elbow, and he lifted his so his coffee wasn't jostled too much.

“Seldom Though They Are, I Do Have My Moments,” he offered with a smirk in your direction. The both of them had charming smiles, and you could tell when they were putting on the charm. You felt your chest tighten briefly and you wondered why that was. It gave you some pause as you rubbed your chest.

 

Coffee giving you heart burn? Maybe. You weren't certain.

 

“There will be buns, so not a total sausage fest. Either way, this girl's gonna leave satisfied,” you offered and heard Sans rumble a low laugh into his mug.

“I Do Hope We Aren't Inviting Anyone, I'm Not Feeling Like Company,” Papyrus uttered suddenly, staring into his mug in thought.

“Oh, no, just for us. I'm uh, I don't exactly have friends to invite and I don't... know anyone you know?” And in fact the idea terrified you after your little trip to the local mob meet up place...thing.

 

You didn't know how that worked, but you didn't think you wanted to meet _their_ friends...

 

“maybe at another date, cookie, it's kinda hard to get a bunch of monsters together in one place anyhow. n'even then, we ain't all like, kumbayain' over here, y'know?”

“Monsters don't get along?”

“Mmm, Occasionally, But The Lot Of Us Are So Territorial We Tend To Take Up Large Areas To Ourselves. This Is OUR Side Of Ebott, You See.”

“So it really is like... mobland stuff, huh?” you slouched a little and found him shaking his head.

“I Hesitate To Go That Far.”

“i don't,” Sans mumbled, rubbing his cheek as if remembering something.

 

The rest of the morning went on as usual. They trained, you did a bit of cleaning around the kitchen, and when mid-morning rolled around, you were sort of happy to find Sans unconscious on the couch. He had worked himself to sleep, after all.

 

Papyrus had to do a few things in his office until your lunch-time lesson, so while he worked, you opted to catch a few winks with Sans on the sofa. As per the nap-time routine, you flicked on the television onto food network and snuggled in to see what was going on. You didn't watch Food for long, and eventually moved over to Cooking Network, where they were showing old Julia Child episodes as opposed to reruns of Next Food Network Star. You turned the volume down quite a bit before you settled in to use the arm of the sofa as a pillow. It was startlingly comfortable, after all. No shock, then, that you gradually drifted off to sleep.

 

You weren't sure when you woke, but you knew it was to the subtle touch and shake to your shoulder. You uttered a tired groan and stretched out some, looking up to find the boss leaned over the back of the couch. He watched you as your frame twisted in some attempt to roll back into sleep, though eventually he released you and off the safety of the couch you went, right into the floor.  
  
That woke you up fully, and when you shot upright to whip your head around, Papyrus was leaning over the back of the sofa with an amused expression on his face, watching the way you sat, perplexed in the floor. “Good Morning Again,” he uttered with a tip of his head. “I Took The Liberty Of Getting Our- ehm- Mis En Place Prepared... Those That I Knew, Anyway,” he expressed with a mild smile. He didn't know that he sounded like the teachers from the Peanuts at present, sort of distant and unintelligible to you for the moment. A hand rose to rub your eyes in some attempt to help you stir. You heard 'mis en place' at least and put it together in your head he got the meat out and probably the grinder.

 

With a low groan, you got up and ran your hands over your wrinkled clothes. “So we're ready to go?” you slurred, much to his amusement.

“Y/N, Did You Not Get Proper Sleep Last Night?,” he questioned.

 

“I did,” you said while rounding the couch. You paused over Sans and went to wake him, though Papyrus stopped you. When you lifted your gaze to him, he shook his head.

“You Should Never Wake Him On Your Own, I'll Do It Myself,” which, he had no intention to... after all, it was his time with you, and he'd rather not the degenerate interfere. So what if he was allowing laziness? It got him out of your hair for a while, and he was fine with that. He took your wrist and guided you around the couch, letting you head into the kitchen ahead of him. He had to at least pretend, didn't he?

 

–

 

Pap POV;

 

When you disappeared into the kitchen, he could hear you milling about to find your spices and the like. That was the only thing he hadn't gotten out because he wasn't exactly sure what went in them. He looked down to his brother for a few moments, a sneer rolling across his face. He'd been angry, to be fair. He'd been so angry at Sans this morning he had excused himself to do work that quite honestly he should have made the lazy thing do himself. Sans was trying to take your attention more and more, and this became less of a collaboration...

 

And more of a competition.

 

That was fine, it simply meant they were going to go through more and more underhanded, dirty tactics in order to win out the day, and things got worse as time went on. Thus far, you hadn't noticed the little things. Their glares at each other, their over all territorial behavior. It was for the best, you just chalked it up as 'one of those monster things' and he was sort of glad for that.

 

The less you knew... the better.

 

He counted to twenty before he left the couch to let his opponent sleep for now. There was a sense that this was going to come to a head sooner or later and it was not going to end pretty. Papyrus entered the kitchen and offered you a practiced, dramatic shrug and a frown. “I'm Afraid Even I Couldn't Wake Him,” he said simply while crossing to the sink to wash up.

 

“Really? Huh... He really wanted to learn how to do these... I'll just give him a mini later, he can read instructions,” you decided. Papyrus rolled his eyelights in his narrow sockets with a grunt. Yes, he could read instructions, he thought. But seldom did Sans follow through with them. You would find this out sooner or later and then--

 

He shook his head and set about the task of drying his long digits, making certain that even the spaces between his bones were set. When he turned, he found that you were holding a set of gloves up to him. They were latex and set to be large enough for him, and it made him wonder where you got them from. “What Is This?”

 

“Well, if I make you touch the meat bare handed you're going to have chunks between your bones, and I can't imagine that that's all that comfortable, Vlad,” you offered. He seemed chuffed by the nickname use, and that seemed to be all it took to convince him. Granted, he would have done it anyway because _you_ asked him to. “Alright, so, first thing's first, right? I got the rest of the Mis En Place out, but I gotta prep it, so in the meanwhile, you tell me which kind of meat you wanna start with. We got pork, beef, lamb and turkey this morning, all different cuts.”

 

“I Assume You Want Me To Pick The Cuts, Too,” he commented while watching you mow through the various spices and herbs that needed to be chopped, ground and measured. You were quick with it, he realized, and he found himself mildly distracted by your knifework- as he usually was. When he got a nod from you, he moved to survey what had been bought. Occasionally, he would reference the 'Meat Cuts' poster you had erected over the breakfast nook as a means of giving him something to study occasionally. He was somewhat relieved to find it still there.

 

He must have been squinting because when he turned around, he caught you staring at him. The look on your face was almost as if you were seeing him for the first time. For a split second that expression took his breath away. Had you noticed him for the first time, or...?

 

“You need glasses,” well, that... Yes, you'd noticed SOMETHING for the first time, and it was the fact that he was not exactly able to see quite well enough for his liking. He felt put on the spot, and after crossing his arms in disapproval, he watched you lift your hands. It was as if he'd pointed a gun at you and you were being held up. “Sorry, I know I'm not supposed to pry, but you're gonna hurt yourself with all the squinting. I mean, I wear glasses, yanno,” you pointed out, lifting the heel of your hand to nudge them gently as if to make a point.

 

He knew you wore glasses. You were quite... cute with them.

 

“I DO NOT NEED GLASSES, NOR WILL I HURT MYSELF OVER SOMETHING AS TRIVIAL AS SQUINTING!” You had successfully flustered him... again. And that came out... way louder than he wanted it to. His sockets closed and a growl passed him at his own idiocy when the noise of Sans leaving the couch in the next room hit him.

 

Damn it...

 

And he'd wanted you to himself for a change.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As per usual, I would like to thank all of my readers for sticking with me as I've been a bit slow. I know it's been a hecking long while since I've updated, but for those of you who know why and have stuck around anyway, thank you, love you, y'all are the best.
> 
> Also, hey! If you want a recipe specific on here, you can shoot me some on my Dumblr or the Discord! Will naturally give you your credit, but be sure you sign your name (tumblr, ao3, twitter, whatever) so that I can properly credit you!
> 
> Discord: https://discord.gg/f9e7NDB  
> Tumblr: https://ahouseinthewoods.tumblr.com
> 
> Come hit me up, I love hearing from everyone!


	16. Author's Note Chapter: Will be deleted later.

I apologize for not updating as frequently as I promised, some stuff came up during the holidays, and I got some not great health news, following, I had to deal with a lot of familial stuff.

 

I have a doctor's appointment on the 18th of February, and I AM working on  a few chapters of this that should be out sometime after that. I do appreciate those of you who have stuck around this long, waiting for me to update.

 

For the time being, I'm gonna keep my focus on BEatingU due to it being 'baby's first fic', and since it's near and dear to my heart. The other fics in my roster, for the time being, are going to be on a brief Hiatus until I get over this medical and depressive funk I've been in. 

 

Sorry for those of you who were expecting a long read out of this that was story related. After my doctor's appointment, this chapter will be gone and replaced by BEatingU's next chapter.

 

Thanks again for bearing with me and for being supportive in my time of need. I love you all, and I hope you stick around for more adventures with the hole head and peaches.

**Author's Note:**

> IS THIS SOME KIND OF JOKE?
> 
> Incidentally...yes it is.
> 
> Hope y'all enjoyed it, working on this alongside BEatingU. Thanks for all of your support, guys <3


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